


Courtship in the Capital

by makenalei



Series: Begin Again [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Courtship, Danger, F/M, Falling In Love, Peace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 110,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6866683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makenalei/pseuds/makenalei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ruling family may change, but the capital city will always remain the same. Cloaked in a shroud of mystery and danger, the city has not changed much since Sansa's last journey here. Peace may reign throughout the kingdom but there are still those that threatened such peace. Sansa must learn to sniff out new dangers, as well as old ones, while still managing to make Jon fall in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Courtship in the Capital

Part 2 of A Second Chance

Lady Sansa Stark

 

_She stood on the top battlements of the gatehouse. It had taken ages to climb the ungodly number of stairs. To her left stood Joffrey, a cruel smile on his face, and to her right, Sandor Clegane, looking about as thrilled to be there as she did. She focused beyond them though, looking out at the great Capital City. To think that this was what she had once dreamed about._

_She could see the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s hill, and the  fire-blackened ruins of the Dragonpit to the east. To the west, she saw the Gate of the Gods, lit up by the slowly disappearing sun. The sea was at her back though she could faintly smell the scent of salt. It was overpowered by the stench of the capital rot. To the south was the fish market and the docks and the Blackwater Rush. And to the she saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and if she kept looking, if she could see as far as she truly wished, Winterfell._

_But they did not spend nearly half of an hour climbing treacherous stairs for her to admire the capital nor for her to fantasize about heading North once again. No, Joffrey had crueler intentions. He forced her attention to the parapets, to the iron spikes that held the heads of fallen Northern men. She had noticed it immediately of course, but she no longer wished to give Joffrey the satisfaction of her pain. He could make her look at the heads but she could refuse to see them._

_He showed her the one that apparently had belonged to her father. She feared for a moment that she would lose her impassive expression, but the head looked nothing like the father in her memory. It had been tarred to preserve it, but it only helped to blur the features._

_And then Joffrey disappeared along with the Hound. She was left along on the battlements, alone with a couple dozen of spiked heads, all looking at her instead of facing the city like they were supposed to._

_‘No” She whispered as the one that was supposed to be her father morphed. The tar vanished and the skin was restored. The eyes were open, staring at her bleakly. He looked like her father now. She ran passed him, only to discover that the next head was someone she knew as well. Her brother, Robb, a steel crown upon his head. Then her mother, with her slit throat. Rickon. Bran. Arya. Her entire family._

_“Jon” She whispered, looking for him, praying that he wasn’t there, “Jon!” She screamed, racing down the ramparts though it was endless. She just kept passing her family over and over and over again. It was never ending._

_And then it did end. She reached a dead end on the battlements. There was a head mounted to a spike before her, facing the stone wall. She reached out carefully, noticing the crisscross web of scars across her hands. Shaking, she turned the head around._

_“No!” She screamed as she looked upon the severed head of Jon. He had the scar from the eagle across his eye and his skin appeared seared. He looked as if he had died by fire._

_And then his eyes opened and she stared at the soulless blue of an other, and screamed anew._

She woke up panting and gasping for breath, her chest heaving from her nightmare. A second later her door was being pushed open, a guard barging in with his sword drawn. She recognized it as Jory.

 

“I heard a scream,” Jory stated, looking around the inn chambers for the threat.

 

“A bad dream is all,” She muttered, trying to control her breathing, “My apologies, Jory,”

 

“No apology is needed, Lady Sansa,” Jory told her. He checked the windows twice just to be sure, “Do you wish to talk about it?” He questioned after a moment. He had always been like family to them, like an uncle.

 

“No, thank you though,” She replied, “I just wish to get back to sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us on the morrow,”

 

‘The last stretch,” Jory grinned. He had been assigned to the guard that was taking her to the capital. They had ridden well for the past five days, and now the journey was about to end. The capital loomed only a few hours ride ahead. They had stopped in Brindlewood for the night. Tomorrow she would be there, and Jory would go back to the North. A few lesser guards would remain in the capital, but Jory was needed back home, “Well, then, I shall take my leave. Pleasant dreams, Lady Sansa,”

 

“Get some rest, Jory” She called as he shut the door. She collapsed back against her pillows with a heavy sigh. Ever since they had gotten on the road to the capital, she had been plagued with dreams of the past. They were strange dreams. She knew that Joffrey had taken her to the battlements in the last realm to boast her father’s death, but in a strange way, she could not connect fully to that memory. She thought it likely that her old memories were fading.

 

It scared her more then she cared to admit. It began in Winterfell, after they returned from Arya’s wedding. She found herself forgetting and merging her new siblings together. She could barely recall Rickon as a babe in the old realm and try as she might, she could not bring to mind an image of her mother brushing out her hair in her old chambers. She knew that it had occurred, but she could not bring it into focus. Her new memories were overpowering the old ones.

 

Lady startled her by jumping up onto the bed, curling into her side. She tried to relax and will herself back to sleep, knowing that she did not wish to look so wretched on the morrow, but it was near impossible. Her mind kept going back to the surprisingly vivid memories she still had of the capital.

 

The punishments, the whipping, the green fire dancing across the Blackwater, it all ran through her mind in a loop. Her nerves, fear, and anxiety all bundling into one until she finally succumbed to the darkness.

“Lady Sansa, it is time to wake up,” Her maid was shaking her shoulders, “Lady Sansa, please or you shall not look your best for the prince,” The maid continued shaking her shoulder. She blinked open her eyes, wincing at the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. Her maid sighed, “Finally! They shall leave without you soon,” The girl murmured as she pulled back her duvet.

 

“I am up,” She mumbled. Her mind was groggy and sluggish from her poor night’s sleep. Her eyes felt heavy and puffy from her tears.

 

“You look dreadful, my lady,” The maid told her blatantly, “Apologies, my lady,” She covered her mouth when she realized she had spoken out of term.

 

“I found myself unable to sleep so well last night,” She told the girl as she stumbled to the garderobe. The maid passed her a robe and a basin of cold water. She splashed it over her eyes before rinsing out the cotton feeling in her mouth.

 

Her maid fetched her breakfast while she cleaned herself up, and by the time she was finished, there was bread and fruit waiting for her. 

 

“Put this over your eyes,” The maid told her, passing her a freezing cold rag. She did as she was bid, knowing that the coldness would reduce her puffy bags beneath her blue eyes. It was a bit difficult to eat without being able to see, but she made do. As she ate, her maid focused on her hair. She could not see what she was doing but she could feel her nimble fingers twisting and braiding the long strands.

 

Eventually she had to stand to get dressed, and the cloth came away. She was grateful that the puffy redness seemed to have vanished. The maid laced her up into a light grey gown. It had flowers along the neckline. She pulled on her riding boots and then pinched her cheeks to gain some color.

 

‘You should make haste, my lady,” The maid told her with a giggle. She nodded as she grabbed her cloak, settling it over her shoulders. The maid pinned the direwolf clasp easily. It was a summer cloak, more for fashion then comfort. The air in the south was much warmer then the air in the North.

 

She hid her dagger, the one she had won from Aegon back in the Stormlands, on the wrist holster she had obtained in Wintertown. She had not yet had to use it, but she was always prepared.

 

“Finally!” Robb cheered as she stepped out of the inn, “Fancy a bit of a lie in, sister?” He teased. Her father had insisted on a chaperone and Robb, being the eldest, had volunteered immediately. He claimed it was also to broaden his horizons and cement alliances for when he was Lord of Winterfell. Bran had volunteered as well but her father surprised him with the news that he was to be fostered in the Neck soon. Rickon was of course quite put out at the turn of events but her mother had promised him that they would visit the Vale while they were away in the capital.

 

“Perhaps I did, brother,” She replied as she took over brushing her mount from the stable boy. He was basically finished though so she simply stored the brush in the saddlebag. 

 

“You do know that as the princess’s lady you will have to attend to her?” Robb snickered. The official reason for her stay in the capital was that she was Princess Daenerys new companion, a lady in waiting sort. If Jon and she’s courtship went well, a proposal would be made, a betrothal would be announced, etc. If it did not work out, she would leave the capital and no one would be any the wiser. It had been the Queen’s idea of course. Princess Daenerys had already promised that it would involve no actual work. The princess herself seemed eager to have a friend since Princess Rhaenys was currently in Dorne with her betrothed, learning the customs and such.

 

“You know it is all but a farce,” She whispered as she swung herself onto her horse, “Though I do look forward to watching you attend to the council members,” Her father had insisted that Robb learn something in the capital, and not just laze around as if he were on a tour. So her brother would be apprenticing to various members of the small council, learning about foreign trade, banking, etc. Her uncle Brandon had even offered to let him be his squire for a fortnight.

 

“It is all but a farce” Robb repeated with a grin. She had no doubt that he would manage to escape the most boring of council members in favor of doing something more entertaining. He and Prince Aegon would cause quite a ruckus, “Shall we race again?”

 

“And give Jory another fit?” She laughed, remembering the red faced man yesterday when they had raced over the old river bridge. She feared that the man would strike Robb for their stupidity. “I think not,”

 

“That would be wise, Lady Sansa,” Jory told her sagely, approaching on his own horse, “Are you ready yet, Lord Robb? Or do you plan to braid its mane next?” He questioned, looking down at her brother who was still brushing out his horses hide.

 

“I suppose this shall have to do,” Robb said cheerfully, chucking the brush into his bag before swinging up quickly, “What say you and I have a little race then, Jory” He suggested, “I shall make it worth your while, old man,”

 

“And what would make it worth my while exactly, my lord?” Jory questioned, playing along with Robb’s game. Robb pulled out a flask from underneath his own cloak, flashing it to Jory.

 

“Northern spice,” Robb told him with a wide grin, referencing the homemade spirit in the steel flask, “Which I know for a fact is your favorite and that you drank yourself dry of your own stash two days ago, after Henrik’s horse threw a shoe for the third time. What say you?”

 

“I say that if your father finds out this never happened,” Jory muttered, looking at the flask, “Lady Sansa, stick close the guard,” He told her before trotting ahead with Robb to cement the details of their little race.

 

Without her brother beside her, she fell back into her own head. The closer she got to the capital walls, the more mixed feelings she developed. She was excited to see Jon She had missed him terribly. They had left the Stormlands two days after the rest of the realm departed, save for the royals. It took a sennight to return to Winterfell, a full moon’s turn for her father and the King to hammer out the details of the courtship, and then another fortnight for travel arrangements to be made. They left Winterfell nearly a sennight ago. So all and all, it had been nearly two full turns of the moon since she last saw him. To make matter worse, she never even dreamed of him, this realm or the old. She had dreamt so often of him in the Stormlands, and now nothing.

 

They had exchanged a few letters, snuck to each other via the princess, but it was not the same. She missed the sound of his voice and the way his eyes crinkled when he spoke. She missed his dimples and dark curls. But most of all she missed his companionship. She missed his calm, steady presence beside her.

 

“Lady Sansa, get down!” One of the guards was suddenly yelling, sword drawn as he jumped from his mount. She turned her head just in time. An arrow buzzed by, slicing her cheek instead of imbedding in her forehead. She ducked further and rolled out of her saddle, using her mount as a shield. Her blood raced at the thought of an impending battle, her hand grabbing her dagger as she braced herself for the impending attack. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the warm reviews!

**Chapter 2**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

**The Crownlands**

 

She crouched down low, her eyes searching the copse of trees that surrounded them. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her dagger poised and ready to strike should someone come close. She could feel the warmth of blood trickling down her cheek from where she had been grazed. She laid in wait, but no more arrows came their way. She heard a guards armor and then one of them was beside her, sword drawn. He gave her dagger a strange look, but did not say anything.

“Over there,” Another guard yelled, pointing his sword at a scruffy looking man holding a misshapen dagger nearly the length of her forearm, “Drop the dagger now, sir,” The guard commanded.

“Got the other, the one that must have shot the arrow,” The third guard huffed. He was the one that had told her to duck but she could not recall his name. He emerged with a younger looking lad and a bow. He looked as filthy and ragged at the older man, “Just your average highway robbers,” The guard announced. 

“We ain’t mean no harm,” The older man stuttered quickly, dropping his dagger to the ground as the guard held his sword to his chest, “We just hungry, needed some coin. Boy wasn’t aiming for her, he was aiming for her purse, he got shit aim is all” He added, glaring at the boy. The boy was probably his son, no older then Bran. He was shaking in the guard’s grip. They were clearly desperate.

“Thievery is still against the law, hungry or not” The guard told him sternly, “Since we are not of the Crownland’s, we will escort you to the capital where you can explain to the King why his Queen’s niece has a wound from an arrow on her cheek,” The guard threatened. The man’s eyes widened at the threat of being brought before the King. He would probably be hung, his son tossed into a cell, or worse, hung beside him. 

“Please, begging your pardon, my Lady. We truly ain’t meant no harm. He’s only a lad, not yet ten and two,” The man stammered, pleading with her instead of the guards now. 

“Do not speak to her,” The guard that stood before her told him. His sword was pointed their way as well, as if he was afraid that the man and the boy would lunge at her, even as they pleaded for forgiveness. 

“That is quite enough, ser,” She told her guard, wiping away the blood on her cheek with her gloved hand, as her mind set on their outcome, “We will not be taking them with us to the capital city,”

“Lady Sansa-”

 “I said we will not be taking them there, ser” She repeated, looking at the guard sharply before turning back to the older man, “You are clearly without a shelter and you look quite hungry. Tell me, where do you hail from?” She questioned, hoping that her faith in them would not be misplaced. They just seemed desperate, not a true danger. 

“Duskendale, my lady,” The older man stuttered, “We had a farm there. It’s been dying ever since the king destroyed the village though, no body wants to live on cursed lands or worse, trade with them. I’m am sorry my lady; my boy is starving. We had to think of something. We weren’t going to hurt you, just rob you,” He stated bluntly. She looked to the lad, who nodded quickly. Looking into the youth's greenish brown eyes, she believed him. He wasn't aiming for her when he shot the arrow.  

“I believe that you meant not ill with towards us. You will sell me your weapons,” She decided, pointing to the bow in the lad's grip, “And I shall leave with my guards, you and your son both unharmed. You will of course promise to never thieve or rob again. You will head further North, and then east to the Saltpans. There is work to be had there. It is tough work but it will feed you and your boy,” She instructed them, remembering the bustling port city that they had briefly stopped in. It was a bit off their path, but Robb had wanted to see it. 

“You can have’em for free, my lady,” The lad told her, holding out the bow and unstrapping the makeshift quiver. The guard that had stood before her blocked her again, as if the lad might try to harm her.

“Relieve him of his weapon, Henrik,” She told the guard, remembering his name now. Most were either Torrhen or Henrik or another ridiculously Northern name. She found herself struggling to recall them all. She pulled out her change purse, the same one that they had tried to hit, picking out a few choice coins. She pressed them into the lad’s hands, covering them with his other, “Do you promise not to ever do such a thing again?” She questioned.

“I promise,” The lad nodded seriously.

“Good,” She released his hand, “And you ser?” She asked the father, picking up the dagger from his feet. It was crudely made but dangerously sharp. They were lucky the man wasn’t tossing it towards them. It would have been far more deadly then the blunted arrow. She would add it to her collection of weapons.

“Of course, my lady,” The man told her, “I promise”

 “Good. Take these and go then. But know that if you should break your promise to me, I shall know about it,” She warned darkly, approaching the older man. She lowered her voice so that the boy would not hear her, “There will be no second chance. If you do not abide by your promise, you will be sentenced to death, and it will be painful. There will be no king, no jury, no chance of survival. You will die if you do not keep your word,” She whispered.  

“Of course, my lady. Thank you, my lady,” The father told her, bowing and quickly grabbing his son. The two left quickly after that, disappearing down the road at a clipped pace. They were practically running. 

“We should not have let them go, Lady Sansa. Jory will not be pleased,” The guard told her, still holding her new bow and arrow, “And you should not have given them coin for this, it is poor made and honestly, filthy,” He held it up. She gave him the dagger and took the bow, testing the weight and shape. It was crude but fashioned well. The arrows were the same. The lad had even carved a few patterns into the shafts. 

 “Jory can speak with me if he is not happy with the result. As for my new bow, I think it was worth the coin, ser,” She replied, passing it to a different guard. Henrick was right when he said it was filthy. She would have to cleanse it before using it, “Shall we get moving now?”

“You were cut by the arrow. You should tend to that,” 

“We are so close, it can wait, ser” She told him. It was just a scratch after all, it would heal. She pulled herself back into her saddle, “Are you coming?” She questioned, looking at the guards. They grudgingly nodded and mounted their horses again. 

She knew that the men were not thrilled with her decision but she could not in good conscious have let the boy die for simply being hungry. She had been hungry and homeless in the past realm. She knew the desperation that took hold. If was different then her naivety in the past realm. She was no longer ignorant to how the realm ran. But she still had to try to be kind and forgiving when she could be. There was a delicate balance to being good or bad. She had to find that balance here. She had nearly mastered it in the old realm. Daenerys had helped immensely. She knew the struggle of finding that balance, of having the people favor you while still respecting, and even to an extent, fearing you.  Daenerys had learned the hard way in Meereen as she told it. But she had built herself back up. She had conquered millions, only to descend into the madness after her 21st birthday.

She would not dwell on it though. She was not the Queen of the North in this realm. Her father and mother ruled Winterfell and the North as agents of their King. Her brother would inherit Winterfell as was his birthright. If she was lucky, she would marry Jon in a few years, and they would settle someplace where Jon could be a banner man to his brother, perhaps Lord of Dragonstone. She would never have to be Queen again, and it suited her fine, honestly.

Being a Queen had not been everything it was said to be. It came with nothing but death and blood. She did not need anymore of that in this realm.

They found Robb and Jory after passing through Stokeworth. She tried hard not to imagine what Lollys was up to in this realm. The poor simple minded girl had faired far worse then her in the riot in the capital. She had the Hound to save her, Lollys had no one. The two northern men were seated on the side of the road, letting their horses graze in the pastures while they passed the Northern spice between them. When she approached with the rest of the guard, the two looked up. 

“About time, my lady” Robb mumbled, eyes slightly glassy from drink, “Did you walk or ride?” He teased.

“We were detained for a few minutes by thieves after they shot an arrow into our party” One of the guards grunted, looking to Jory. The man was instantly on his feet.

‘Where are they?” Jory questioned, looking around as if they were hiding the pair somewhere on their persons. 

“Lady Sansa allowed them to continue on their merry journey, even gave them coin,” The guard replied, casting her a quick look. She did not blame him for his honesty. Jory was his superior. Jory would beat him had he lied, but he could not physically harm her.

“Is that blood, Sansa?” Robb had stood now and was looking at her cheek. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. She desperately wanted a sip of it.  Jory marched over and turned her cheek none too gently so that he could see it as well. He looked angry and annoyed, but then again, Jory was always angry and annoyed at something. 

‘It is just a scratch. The lad was a bad aim,” She told him, slapping his hand away. She took the skin of spice from Robb and had a gulp. It burned going down but it warmed her instantly. It would settle her nerves and numb the pain in her cheek.

“He was aiming for her forehead,” The guard grunted.

“He was aiming for my coin purse,” She interjected, “The kid was not much older then Bran, and the two both looked near death. They were just desperate for food. They promised not to do it again so I let them go free instead of dragging them to the capital for a death sentence,”

“You let them go free because they promised?” Jory questioned in disbelief, “They are criminals, Lady Sansa. They attacked you. Every broken law has a punishment for a reason. What happens now if they do something similar? If they decide that the next man or woman, they rob would be easier to deal with dead?” He ranted. He was angry, which was understandable. 

“Then it shall be on my name, and mine alone,” She told him shortly, “Besides, if they do, Lady will know. She is following the two to the Saltpans to ensure that they make it there without issue,”

“Your wolf is _hunting_ them?” Jory looked ready to beat his guards bloody for allowing her to do such a thing. He also looked slightly sick at the thought, and made a point to emphasize the word hunt. 

“She is watching them, and if they go back on our promise, she will determine their fate,” She answered with grim turn of her lips. Lady would attack should they break their promise. It was cruel but necessary. Jory grimaced at the thought, “I gave them fair warning, Jory. It is done with. Let us continue on our journey south,”

“Your father will have to hear about this, Lady Sansa, including the wolf part,” Jory told her as he pulled himself up onto his saddle, “I expect that he will not be pleased, with you or myself,” Jory muttered before distancing himself a bit. Robb fell into the spot beside her.

“Does it sting?” He questioned, passing her a wet rag. She dabbed it at her cheek, which served to make it bleed anew. Her brother had drenched it in alcohol before passing it to her. It stung but would work to clean it for now. The last thing she needed was an infection. 

“It does not hurt, Robb,” She promised him. Her skin was not as tough as it had been in the past realm but her mind was as tough as ever. She knew how to grin and bear it, so to say. It was small enough not to scar either, which pleased her. She had many scars in the past realm, but she would prefer to leave them there.

“I’m sure Prince Jaemon will still find you to be as beautiful and maidenly with the warrior’s scar upon your fair skin,” Robb told her seriously before chuckling at his own attempt of humor. She laughed with him because underneath his joke, he was serious as well. Her past brother had been more serious, more intent on showing their father that he was ready to be lord, or so she thought she recalled. Her last memories of him were of those of a girl of eleven. She hadn’t paid him much mind.

This new Robb though, she drank him in. She poured over every little quirk and detail of her siblings, desperate to know everything about them as she was so wrongly denied that pleasure in the past realm. Robb was more carefree, clearly a child that grew up in a time of peace, that matured in the same time. He was easy to laugh but quick to sober. He knew when to act serious and when to bring in the jokes. He devoted time to both his brother’s in the yard, and even managed to sneak a little teaching into the games he played. He wrote to Arya every fortnight. He was kind to their mother and still looked up to their father, trying to prove that he will be a worthy heir of Winterfell. He was good brother, a good man. She liked to think that her other brother would have grown into the same sort of man, had he not been crowned King of the North at the tender age of ten and five, then murdered at ten and six. 

“You are the epitome of Prince Charming, brother,” She remarked dryly, kicking her horse into a trot to get ahead of him. Robb said something but it was lost on the wind. He allowed her to tease him and joke around with him. He seemed genuinely pleased with her presence. His hatred and wariness in the first few days of her time in the new realm was all but gone. There were moment however, when she would catch him staring at her in a strange way, like he knew something was different but he could not pinpoint it.

* * *

 

Her first sight of the capital came as they reached the top of a small incline. Beneath them sprawled the capital city in all of its glory, red and dusty in the distance. They paused momentarily to take it in, but Jory commented about wanting a proper meal and they were surging forward again. As they got closer, she could smell the telltale scent of the capital though it was fainter in this realm. It was not as rotten or rancid.

Their group slowed as they reached the gates protecting the capital city. Guards blocked their path, dressed in cloaks of red and black instead of the gold she recalled from her last miserable trip here. Almost as quickly as they had stopped, they were traveling forth again. The guards had been aware of their arrival after all. A few joined their group to escort them to the castle, black and red mixing amongst the grey and browns of their northern retinue. They passed under the beautiful Dragon Gates and into the city. 

She let out a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding as she took in the sight of the bustling city. It looked brighter then it had in the past, more alive. It smelt better too. There was something fresh in the air, spices and flowers and things that had not been seen in the past realm for ages. She could smell the salt of the bay as a warm breeze ruffled through her hair. From the entrance of the Dragon’s Gate she could see the Dragon’s pit. It looked newly restored. She supposed it would have to be with all the dragons that the Targaryen’s had.

She barely had any time to appreciate the new sights for they traveled quite quickly through the capital. The Targaryen guards assured them that they would have ample time to see the city in the future, but for now they had to make haste. They were already late thanks to their little skirmish near Stokeworth. They passed the outskirts of Flea bottom, but even that looked less dire then it had in the past realm. A few people stopped to watch them pass, but most went about their day as usual. They were plumper and cleaner then she remembered. A few brazen young’uns even waved, smiling widely at the procession.  

As they entered the center of the city she saw the Red Keep looming in the distance. Despite the relief she felt at seeing the city in much better shape then the previous realm, she still felt the coil of fear in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the red castle. Her time there had not been well spent. The rational part of her mind told her that she had no one to fear here, that they lived in a time of peace, and that her brother would protect her. But the other part of the brain told her she had believed the same thing in the past realm, and look where it had gotten her. She felt slightly nauseous at all the thoughts and memories swirling around in her mind.

“Sansa? Are you well? You look a little green,” Robb whispered, not letting Jory hear them speak.

“Just a little travel weary, brother” She murmured back, gripping her reigns tighter, “I am relieved to finally have arrived,”

“As am I, my lady,” Jory muttered as he passed them.

They rode slowly up Aegon’s Hill. The guards that escorted them spoke quietly to Jory as they went. Jory was giving them an abridged version of their journey south. Robb was engrossed in their surroundings so she was left to prepare herself mentally. Majority of her awful memories were in the Red Keep and the Tower of the Hand. She had no reason to be in the Tower of the Hand on this journey, so she did not fear having to relive those ones at the moment. Everywhere else was free game though. She had nearly no good memories in this city, no safe haven.

 They got through the main gate of the castle, then over the moat, and then they were at their destination. Her eyes went up to the Traitor’s Walk automatically. She sighed a breath of relief when she found the battlements empty of tarred heads. Black and red banners flew proudly in the wind. Only a few sentries walked the path. 

“This way,” The guard told them, leading them towards the entrance to the Red Keep. She kept her eyes focused on the guard in front of her, refusing to let her eyes wander, lest she relive unpleasant memories. She wanted to focus on being excited to see Jon again. She held onto the butterflies in her stomach, relished in the buzz thrumming through her veins. She felt near giddy. _This is what a courtship should feel like,_ she told herself. Whatever farce she had in the old realm in the capital with a different prince was nothing like this one.

“What a welcoming group,” She heard Robb murmur as the guards stopped just at the bottom of the grand steps to the Red Keep. She looked up to find two people awaiting their arrival. Princess Daenerys wore a Dornish styled lavender gown with her silver hair down. She had a plain silver coronet over her curls and a welcoming smile upon her face. 

Next to her, Jon looked splendid in his black and grey finery. He towered over his minute aunt, though his smile rivaled hers. He wore a ruby encrusted silver band over his dark curls. His grey eyes met hers, and his smile grew. She found herself smiling back as she held his gaze. She swore that her heart skipped a beat at the welcome site.

Robb dismounted first before helping her in the effort for her to appear ladylike. She broke eye contact and focused on dismounting. Together they stepped before the prince and princess and knelt wordlessly.

“Rise, cousins,” Jon told them a quick second later, grinning, “It is good to see you again,” Robb repeated the sentiment and shook their cousins hand, while she kissed the princess’s cheek, complimenting her beautiful gown. Then she and Robb switched. Robb greeted the princess with flirty words and a cocky grin. The princess laughed at him, teasing him back.

“My lady,” Jon kissed the top of her grey gloved hand. She wished she had removed the stupid fabric before their arrival, but she had not been thinking at the time. She would have to forgo the gloves while in the capital. 

“Your Grace,” She replied, curtsying with a smile. Her heart was racing in her chest. His smile fell, and with it her heart.

“You are injured,” He stated quietly, tilting her chin with his warm fingers. It was probably not proper for him to touch her as such but she had no qualms about it. Her cheeks flushed at the action as he inspected the small scrape. 

“It is nothing, your Grace,” She murmured, “A small accident,” Robb cleared his throat loudly, causing Jon to drop his hand from her face. He was watching them with a brow cocked. He would enjoy being their chaperone too much.

 “Well,” Princess Daenerys cleared her throat, stepping in front of Robb, “We must apologize. We expected you earlier in the day, hence the small welcome party. The rest of the family is at court, and will hopefully be done shortly,” She gestured to the Red Keep, “If you wish, we will show you to your rooms so that you may freshen up before greeting the rest of the family,”

“That would be most welcome,” Robb answered for them, “I know most of our guard is eager to rest and return to the North. Some cannot handle the heat of the South, your Graces,” Robb looked at Jory as he spoke. Jon laughed under his breath at Jory’s annoyed expression.

 “Of course, Lord Robb” Princess Daenerys nodded, “My nephew will show you and your guard to their chambers. I shall escort you to yours, Lady Sansa,” 

‘Thank you, princess,” She murmured. She watched Jon gesture for Robb and their guard to follow him while she half listened to what Princess Daenerys was telling her. It had been nearly two moons since she last saw him. 

She needed to convince herself that he was alive and well. He smiled easily and spoke to Robb about something that caused her brother to snort in laughter as well. She would guess it to be about Aegon or Arya. She knew her sister wrote to Jon frequently. In their own letters, sister to sister, Arya admitted that Jon had written about her. It had made her cheeks ache from smiling so much at the thought of it. Princess Daenerys laughed, breaking her distraction.

“Lady Sansa, if you would pull your attention from my nephew’s backside, I could show you to your chambers,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 2! It's a little fluffy. I'll try to post chapter 3 earlier then a week because I'll be away for the long weekend. Let me know what you guys think.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lady Sansa Stark

The Great Keep

It was hotter then she even remembered it being in the city. Even the Stormland’s had not been this warm. She had learned from Maester Luwin that it was the middle of autumn in the kingdom, though they had been having a warm spell in the past few moons. It was a good omen for a short winter, or so he said. She was relieved. She did not imagine she could bear another winter like the never ending one she had found herself in the last realm. Or so she thought. The heat was proving quite difficult though. The sticky warm air made her hair cling to the sweat the back of her neck, curling it against the flushed skin. She would have to pull her hair up if she wanted to looked somewhat presentable.

“How faired your journey, Lady Sansa?” The princess questioned as she led them through the halls of the Red Keep. Guards were stationed at nearly every turn. Unlike the red and gold that had dominated the décor of the old Keep, red and black hung in the halls now. Tapestries of dragons adorned each wall. She could even hear one of the dragons screeching somewhere in the capital. No one else showed any sign of noticing.

“It was quite pleasant, thank you. I so enjoyed seeing places other then the North,” She told her as they climbed a set of curling stairs. She could say with honesty that she had never been in this part of the Keep. She was grateful for that.

“And how are you finding the capital thus far?”

“Cleaner then I imagined,” She answered with a smile, “And quite alive. The streets were so beautiful and colorful,” She wished to visit the market she had seen on the path up. The old capital did not allow such things towards the end, not that anyone had anything to sell or any coin to spare for that matter.

“Your arrival coincides with the autumn festival. In three weeks the entire city will celebrate with a grand public feast,” Princess Daenerys told her as they turned down another corridor, “Do not fear, my brother gave me the task of assigning chambers. You shall not be in the black dungeons,”

“What a relief,” She laughed. She had grown rather fond of the silver haired princess. They had exchanged a few letters over the past few moons. She was as vibrant and strong willed as the Daenerys in the last word, but she was not yet tainted with the madness. She hoped that this Daenerys would never know that life. She was actually looking forward to being a lady in waiting for her.

“Your chamber is just ahead,” The princess told her at yet another junction. She would get lost in the castle, “I should tell you that the Queen is not pleased with your arrival. It has been an interesting few moon’s, my friend,” The princess stopped at a door. She was relieved to say she had never been in this corridor before, and certainly never in this chamber. She had dreamt once of being back in the room she had occupied in the past realm, and ever since she prayed to the old and new gods to spare her that horror, “Here we are,” A guard pulled open the door for them. Daenerys swept into the sun lit room, sweeping her hand around her, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 It was beautiful. The chamber was airy and bright. The light came through the windows and the open balcony door. There was a light colored four poster bed with sinfully soft looking blue linens and big fluffy feather pillows. Her trunks were in the corner already, and the wardrobe looked as if her things were already unpacked, though she saw fabric she did not recognize. She walked to the balcony and looked out. She had a beautiful view of the Godswood, which looker thicker then it had in the past realm, and even further out, she could see the glistening blue of the sea.

“It is beautiful,” She murmured quietly. It was far nicer then any other room she had ever been in in the Red Keep, “Thank you, Princess,” She murmured.

“It was nothing,” Daenerys replied with a shrug, “I for one am happy to have you here. My niece has been absent all month with her wedding planning. I do so need another girl in this retched city,” The princess proclaimed, “Perhaps I can persuade you to pick up a sword with me,” She added, winking.

“I shall endeavor to do whatever you please,” She told her, though she was secretly excited at the thought of practicing swords with the princess. She knew the moments but her muscles did not in this realm. She would have to rebuild her strength.

“Then your first role of duty as my lady in waiting will be to freshen up before we take a grand tour. I must make sure you are presentable,” Daenerys told her with a laugh, “I’ve bought a surprise for you, as a welcome to the city gift. There is cold water in the basin on your vanity. Freshen up, and a maid will be in with it in a moment. I shall call on you in half of an hour, court should be finished by then,” She told her before sweeping out of the chambers.

She did as the princess said, wiping her face and neck with the cold water before quickly washing the rest of her as well as she could. She dabbed some of her oils behind her wrists and on her bosom, hoping she smelt fresher then she felt in the sweltering heat of the south. As she was fanning herself, the maid knocked and entered the room.

 “Lady Sansa,” The young girl greeted, curtsying low, “My name is Liv,”

 “Hello, Liv,” She greeted as she held her hair up off of her neck.

 “Princess Daenerys sent this for you,” The maid told her as she opened the box she had been carrying. Out of it she pulled the most splendid gown she had ever seen, and surely the sheerest. It was clearly Essoi in style, but it would be so freeing to wear on such a warm day.

 “Tis beautiful,” She told the maid as she held out the bright turquoise fabric. It had a matching gold belt with it and golden sandals, “Will you help me put it on?” She questioned. The maid nodded before putting it down the bed and helping her undo the many laces to her travel gown. The flowing blue fabric covered her more then she had first thought but was still quite daring. It left her entire back bare, and her arms were only covered by flowing lengths of the gauzy material. It exposed her entire arm as she walked.

 “You look beautiful, my lady” Liv told her as she undid the few pins in her hair. Her curls tumbled forward, hanging freely. Liv pinned a few pieces back but left most of it down. She appreciated that it covered her back. This new body in this realm was devoid of marks, but the memory still remained, “The prince shall not know what hit him,” She added slyly.

 “Thank you, Liv,” She murmured as she stared at her reflection in the looking glass. Daenerys entered at that point, not bothering to knock. She wore a similar dress to her own, though hers was purple once again. Liv curtsied to both of them before taking her leave.

 “Liv is one of the best hand maidens in this castle,” The princess told her as she looked her over, “Are you happy with you welcome gift?” She questioned.

 “It is beautiful, I thank you,” She replied easily, “And quite exposing,’ The princess grinned brightly at that.

 “I brought the style back from Pentos,” The princess told her, “It has over taken the court, much to the displeasure of some of the elder southern women, particularly those from the West and the Riverlands. The Dornish are rejoicing though,”

 “I cannot say that my mother would approve of the dress, but I find it’s exposure a welcome thing in this wretched heat,” She murmured. She doubted she would wear this type of gown much in the capital, but it was kind of the princess to give it to her.

 “Are you ready to greet the others?” Daenerys questioned, “I know of one prince in particular that is quite eager to see you again,” She hinted. She had come to learn that the princess was impossibly fond of all of her family, but she held a soft spot for Jon as he was the black sheep so to say of Rhaegar’s children, just as she was a bit of a black sheep.

 “And one Queen who is not,” She murmured as she took the princess’s arm.

 “We will discuss that on another day, my friend. Let’s not ruin your first day here,” The princes remarked. They walked together down the halls, the princess pointing out various markers and hints to keep herself oriented in the castle. They did walk past the corridor that led to her old room. Her breathing hitched as they continued on, and eventually she relaxed, listening to the melodic tones of the princess’s voice.

 “Ah, I think I prefer the southern style for ladies over that for men,” Robb greeted as they approached the doors to the Throne Room. Jon was not with him, to her disappointment. Her brother had changed his clothing as well. He wore a splendid grey doublet with a fierce wolf embroidered onto it. His tunic had puffed sleeves that were black and silver paisley. His clothing actually reminded her of Renly or Loras. She laughed at the sight he made.

 “You look quite handsome, my lord,” Daenerys told him with a kind smile, “My nephews spent most of the two moons since we were all together planning that outfit for you. I do so hope you appreciate it,”

 “Oh, I appreciate it greatly, princess,” Robb told her smoothly, “I cannot wait to thank both Prince Aegon and our dear cousin for such a wondrous gift,”

 “You have already mastered the art of sweet talking, and it has only been an hour in the capital,” Daenerys laughed, “Tell me, where did Jon scamper off to?”

 “He was called into the throne room, your Grace,” Robb told her, gesturing to the guards that were blocking their entrance, “I believe you were wanted in their as well,”

 “I suppose they wish to greet you as a full family,” The princess remarked thoughtfully, “I will see you in there then,” She walked towards the guards, had a brief word with them, and then she was admitted through a small opening of the doors. Robb picked at his shirt.

 “I am going to slay them in the training yard on the morrow,” Robb told her, “Velvet and silk, sister. Our cousin is mocking me,” She remembered fondly her sister’s wedding feast, when the two had teased each other over their doublets. It seems Jon had remembered it well.

 “You look darling, brother,” She reached forward and pinched his cheek like Aunt Lysa had done to Rickon back in the Stormlands. She had nearly gotten her fingers bitten off when Rickon growled that he was not, in fact, darling.

 “I shall destroy you as well,” Robb muttered, “Has Lady returned yet from her escort mission?” He questioned, looking around. She could see Greywind sitting next to one of their northern guards, though Jory was not close. Robb must have told Greywind to stay because the wolf never sat so still.

 “The Saltpans are a long distance from where we met them, Robb,” She told him “It shall be at least another day before she reaches the capital, probably more” She wished that there had been another way to ensure the two men did not disobey her, but there hadn’t been. Greywind and Robb would protect her for now. She was certain if she tried to call on him, Ghost would as well.

 “And how shall you know if they disobey you, sister?” Robb questioned. She closed her eyes and focused on Lady. A second later, she found herself in the forest, following the trail of two filthy, smelling men. They were not on a path. The elder of the two was humming a tavern song.

 She opened her eyes to find Robb staring at her.

 “Sansa!” He hissed, “You cannot just do that in the open!”

 “And yet I just did,” She replied. She would not have done it if she thought it was dangerous. There was no one near her to see her eyes flash white and it had only lasted a second. It was not as if she had done it in the middle of the throne room.

 “I did not even know you could do that,” Robb looked a bit perturbed, “You remember father giving us the speech about it. You lied then, said you could not,”

 “I did not lie, I could not then” She replied, though she had no idea when her previous self had learned of the warging ability. She was not accustomed to it at all, but she was practicing. Sometimes, when Lady was over stimulated, she warged into her without warning. It usually occurred during the hunt, “And I am quite certain that our cousin can do it as well, perhaps he can even warg into his dragon,”

 “Do not make such inquiries, Sansa,” Robb told her seriously, “If he cannot, the result would be dangerous, maybe even deadly,”

 She did not get a chance to reply though she would have lied to her brother. She planned on asking Jon. The doors were then tossed open and the herald was announcing their names. Robb took her arm and escorted her in.

 She needn’t have feared so much. The throne room looked entirely different then it had in the past realm. It was what she imagined it had looked like before the Lannister’s took over. Bones of dragons past lined their way, and huge black and red banners hung from the rafters. It was a lot darker then the Baratheon throne room, richer in history. It reminded her of the simplicity of Winterfell.

 The entire royal family stood at the end of the throne room, the king sitting upon the Iron throne. Unlike Robert or Joffrey, both of whom looked quite out of place on the intimidating throne, King Rhaegar looked as if the chair was made specifically for him. Her eye was drawn to him, even with Jon standing just a foot from him. He looked like a king should. It was said that only those who were deserving of the throne were allowed to sit on it without injury, so perhaps it was true.

 To his right stood the Queen, dressed in a splendid silk gown of grey, though it was nearly so light as to be called white. It had long bell sleeves and a low cut. A bright ruby sat on the Queen’s bosom, matching the rubies that adorned her tiara. She had no real emotion to her face. It was nearly as good a mask as she herself could create.

 On the left side of the King stood Prince Aegon, who like her brother, wore intricately made southern clothing. His garments were black and red though. Prince Viserys stood beside him, as indifferent and uninterested as ever. His silver hair looked greasy next to his nephew. He wore all black, making him appear sickly pale. Princess Rhaenys was noticeably absent though she supposed the eldest Targaryen was too busy planning a wedding to greet them.

 She kept her head held high as they walked the last few steps, refusing to let her mind her wander to the days spent in agony in this very room. No, she would not think of those now, not when Queen Lyanna was so close. She could feel the dark grey eyes upon her, watching for any sort of misstep. She had to be strong. She dug her fingers a little bit deeper in Robb’s arm and focused her breathing.

 “You Graces,” They reached the end of the aisle and knelt seamlessly.

 “Rise, Lord Robb, Lady Sansa,” The King commanded, rising himself from the throne. He took a few steps before stopping in front of them, “And welcome to the capital,” He remarked, spreading his arms.

 “We thank you, your Grace,” Robb told him stoically, “We bring gifts of peace from the North for the kindness you show in allowing us to stay here,” He gestured for one of the younger northern guards to step forward. He gave a small chest to Robb.

 “For the King and Queen,” Robb told him, passing the chest to the king. King Rhaegar unlatched the top and opened it, pulling out a pouch of grey velvet.

 “Seeds,” The King remarked as he peered into the pouches, “Northern blue roses no doubt. We thank you for this kind gift,”

 “Yes, we thank you greatly,” The Queen stepped down to stand beside her husband, taking the grey pouch from his hands, “Ned does know how much I love the blue roses. They do not bloom nearly as radiant in the capital as they do in the wild of the North,” She looked wistfully at the seeds, a happy look nearly.

 “Father said that you would be pleased by them,” Robb replied easily, grinning at their aunt, “And for Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys,” Another one of their guards stepped forward, passing Robb something thick. The two princes stepped forward to accept their gifts. It was custom in the kingdoms to give gifts to your hosts. For the two princes, they had brought winter cloaks. They were made of the finest northern pelts, much warmer then anything found in the south.

 “Thank you, Lady Sansa, Lord Robb,” Prince Aegon told them with a cheeky grin, “I was feeling a bit chilled this past sennight,” He jested.

 “ _Winter is coming_ , your Grace,” She told him lowly before Robb could call him a curse word or worse. She knew Aegon was baiting his friend. She could tell by the smirk on his face, “And for the princesses,” She gestured for the guard this time. They presented her with two intricate wooden boxes. She passed both to Princess Daenerys.

 “Oh, it is beautiful,” The princess exclaimed, running her finger over the carved jewelry box. The wood carver in Wintertown had done a beautiful job on both pieces, carving the dragons with near perfect accuracy. They were both made out of weirwood, so they were light in color, and the sap that had seeped in only ended to the appearance of the dragons. She almost wanted one for herself, “Thank you,”

 “You are more then welcome, princess,” Robb winked, which just caused the princess to snort in laughter, “And lastly for our dearest cousin, who surely thought that we had forgotten all about him,” Robb teased, pulling Jon’s gift out from his pocket. Jon stepped forward and took the proffered gift.

 He looked at the package, which was wrapped up in a scrap of silk and tied with one of her own grey ribbons. He undid the bow neatly, revealing the dark metal clasp. It was a wolf on one side and a dragon on the other. Jon turned it over several times in his hands, admiring the detail. The Queen peered over his shoulder after a moment.

“Milken’s work, no doubt,” She murmured as she watched her son turn it over in his hands, “It is a splendid piece,”

“Yes, it is,” Jon finally spoke, “Thank you. I shall have to write to Lord Stark and the rest of your family to convey my thanks as well,”

“Our father will be pleased to hear it,” Robb replied.

“As I see that you two have both received the gifts chosen for you by my sister and sons, I must ask how your journey went. You were expected to arrive early in the morning. I hope the travels were pleasant enough,” King Rhaegar told them, “My son spoke of a slight accident that caused you injury, Lady Sansa” He looked to her. His purple eyes were genuinely concerned.

“I am not injured gravely, your Grace,” She told him, turning her cheek so that he could see the cut along it. She made a point to roll her eyes and laugh as if she were embarrassed, “Physically, I shall recover, but my ego may be irrevocably damaged. Embarrassed as I am to say it, I did not heed the guards warning in time to duck,” She did not lie, but she did tell him what she had to duck from either. That was the beauty of the perfect lie, a truth without all the details. She left it open for them to interpret what had cut her, be it an arrow or a tree branch, “It was a lovely journey south though. The weather south of Moat Cailin was splendid the entire journey down,”

‘I am pleased to hear it. A warm autumn bodes well for a short winter, or so I am told by the maesters,” King Rhaegar told her, “I shall not keep you two here long. I know my sons and sister are eager to show you around our home. I have but two rules for you in this castle. Your father has agreed with me and requests your abidance with them as well,”

“Of course, your Grace” Robb murmured.

“The first, you do not leave the castle without a guard,” The King looked to his sons on this. Both had the decency to look humble, “And that does not mean just a wolf or a cousin as backup,”

“Yes, your Grace,” She and Robb both replied. That rule would not be difficult to abide by. And if she wanted to slip out unnoticed, she was confident that she could.

“The second is more so your father’s then my own,” The King warned them, “Lord Robb, you will attend at least two small council and three court sessions every week,”

“I look forward to them, your Grace,” Robb replied easily.

“Lord Stark wrote that you would say that,” The King chuckled, “I am eager to hear what you have to say in the small council chambers. I allow Aegon and Jaemon to speak freely in the sessions that they sit in upon. As such, I highly recommend thinking before you speak in the beginning,”

“It is an honor to be able to do so, your Grace,” Robb told him seriously. It was a big deal for the King to allow him to speak should he wish to in such sessions.

“Well, I for one, am glad that you will have a northerner in those sessions with you. The North is woefully underrepresented on the small council, not a single person,” The Queen interjected, “I trust you will do House Stark proud, nephew,”

“I will endeavor to, aunt”

“And lastly, Lady Sansa. I trust that you know the rules and etiquette for a proper courtship. Your father wrote that your septa had told you,” The King stated.

“I do, your Grace,” She nodded.

“Then I shall not bore you with the rules again, or subject you to the, I believe my sister called it horror, of hearing it from me” King Rhaegar told her with a small smile, “Jaemon has been told the rules as well. If you are together in public, I expect to see a chaperone with you, in addition to a guard. Your uncle will not suffice as a guard and a chaperone,”

“Yes, your Grace” She nodded again. She had noticed how he said together in public though, instead of together in private.

“Jaemon, is that clear?” The King questioned, looking to Jon. It was strange to hear him being referred to as Jaemon. It seemed that the King was fond of calling him that though, like how her own mother used their full names when they were in trouble, Bran in particular. If you heard mother yelling for Brandon, it was best to scatter.

“Of course, father” Jon nodded.

“Good, then the rules are finished. I trust all of you, my children included, know how to behave as proper adults,” The King stood and stretched, “The Queen and I have a meeting to attend to. We trust you will entertain yourselves until dinner, which will be held in the hall at sun down,”

“We have grand things planned to welcome the Stark’s to the capital, father” Aegon told him joyfully, “Where is Ser Brandon? He promised to be our guard for the day,”

“I believe he went to the docks with your sister to receive Lady Arianne. No doubt they got held up in the markets,” The Queen told Aegon, “Best keep it as a tour of the castle and save the capital for the morrow lest you hurt Ser Brandon’s tender heart,” She replied with a twist of her lips.

“We would not want to hurt his feelings, your Grace” Aegon replied somewhat sarcastically. The Queen seemed amused by it though. So it seemed the Queen only disliked her. How novel. That was one of her priorities while in the capital, sway the opinion of the Queen. She was going to change the Queen’s views, not her own. She had allowed Cersei to manipulate and mold her in the past realm. She would not bend so easily to Queen Lyanna, “Come, friends, we have much to see,” Aegon told her brother, stepping from the raised platform.

“Well, it seems that Aegon shall be escorting Lord Robb, so that leaves Lady Sansa and I with you as an escort, nephew,” Princess Daenerys told Jon with a wicked grin.

“Of course, Aunt,” Jon replied, offering his arm to the silver haired princess. Daenerys took it gracefully and stepped down with him. Jon nodded his head to her before offering his elbow. She took it gratefully, letting the warmth of his touch sink into her bare arm.

“Thank you, your Grace,” She replied, sparring a final glance at the iron throne and the two royals that still stood before it. She was not proud of it, but she made sure to meet the Queen’s eye, smiling coyly as they left the throne room.

Prince Aegon gave them the abridged tour of the Great Hall before bringing them back to the Holdfast. They were shown the Queen’s ballroom, which seemed lighter and airier then it had in the past. There were even hints of grey in the midst of the black and red. They completely bypassed the Tower of the Hand, heading instead towards the Godswood.

“Aegon thinks he can impress you with the Godswood,” Daenerys told her as they walked. She had separated her arm from Jon’s a few minutes into their tour. Now she alternated between walking with them and walking ahead with Robb and Aegon.

Jon himself had been mostly silent on their tour. Sometimes he would whisper something, a fact about the tapestry that she had admired or a laugh when Aegon nearly walked into a sconce in the ballroom. He seemed content to let his brother give the grand speeches though. She was content as well, happy to just be next to him.

“It is more impressive then I thought it would be,” She admitted as they entered the densely wooded area. They were not all Wierwoods, but they were thick and dark, lending perfectly to the atmosphere of a true Godswood. They followed a well worn path to the center, where a weirwood did sit. It was not nearly as massive as the one in Winterfell or any other estate in the North, but it was a decent size. The face carved into the white wood was tranquil in appearance.

“The Queen will be pleased to hear,” Aegon stated as he sat on a rock a few feet from the center. There was a small reflection pool by his feet. Daenerys sat next to him.

“She has had dozens of trees planted from the North, but for every one that lives, two die,” Jon told her as they approached the tree. He dropped her arm so that they could kneel before it to say a quick prayer to the Gods. Robb was on her other side. She closed her eyes and prayed for peace while in the capital.

* * *

After the tour of the castle, which included a two hour stay in the gardens, simply enjoying the fresh air and the sweet wine Aegon procured, they all headed back to their chambers to dress for the feast. Daenerys told her to bathe and then meet in her chambers. Jon escorted her back to her rooms. Daenerys was supposed to chaperone but she quickly disappeared with a wink.

“How do you find the capital so far, Lady Sansa?” Jon questioned as they walked down the empty hallway.

“It is far better then I imagined it would be,” She replied simply, “I am glad to be here, your Grace”

“I am glad to see you here,” Jon told her, smiling faintly. She grinned back at him, “Please, do not call me your Grace,”

“If you shall agree to not call me Lady Sansa, then I shall not call you your Grace,” She bargained. Of course she would call him by his proper titles at court and in the presence of others that mattered, but not when they were alone like this.

“We have a deal then, Sansa,” Jon told her, offering her his hand to shake. She did so, gripping tightly. He brought their conjoined hands up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her bare knuckle.

“That we do, Jon,” She told him as they stopped in front of her door, “I missed seeing you while I was in the North. Letters are not the same,” She admitted softly.

“I missed you as well,” Jon replied in a similar tone, “But you are here now, and we have all the time in the world to get to know each other further,”

“I look forward to it,”

“As do I,” Jon nodded, “I shall not keep you any longer. Dany will be quite irate with me if I detain you from helping her braid her hair or something of the like. I shall see you at the feast, my lady,” He kissed her hand again before leaving her.


	4. Chapter 4

Liv ushered her into a cool bath that smelt like Dornish spices. She washed her hair quickly before turning to her nails and skin. She was glad to be free of the sweat and grime of the day. She had felt rather filthy towards the end of it all. The cool water also helped clear her mind. Between the onslaught of memories, and the sweet wine, she was a bit hazy.

“Princess Daenerys has set out a gown for you to wear this evening in her chambers, so I have laid out a simple dressing gown for you to wear there. She has asked that I only escort you to her, and that you will finish getting ready for the feast together,” Liv informed her as she brushed out her damp curls.

“As the princess wishes,” She murmured as she rubbed oil into her skin. It made her pale skin glow and smell like roses. Her mother had given it to her before her departure.

She dressed in the simple dressing gown and allowed Liv to show her the way to the princess’s chambers. They passed a few guards but none gave her state of dress a second look. Liv nodded to the two guards stationed out front of the princess’s chambers and then they were stepping away. 

The chambers were not ones that she recognized. She realized earlier that most of the castle was unrecognizable. Entire corridors that she knew she had to have been in before were not familiar in the slightest. She had barely recognized the Great Hall. 

“Ah, there you are,” Daenerys was sitting on a chaise, sipping from a goblet while her long silver strands drying by the heat of the burning hearth beside her, “Come sit by me so that your hair dries as well. We have little time,”

She sat next to the princess, listening as she regaled her with stories of the past few weeks. Apparently the entire castle was in an uproar because Rhaenys’ Dornish bridegroom had pushed the wedding back another sennight. 

When the princess’s hair was dry, she plaited it for her. She did so in the simple style of the North, letting most of the silver curls hang over her shoulders. Daenerys gave her a more southern style, an elaborate plexus of plaits on the top of her head with the rest flowing freely over her shoulder. With the feast being held to welcome them, the dress that the princess had chosen for her to wear was the color of her house. The grey silk gown had come with her from Winterfell but she had no memories of ever wearing it. It was tight to her chest, with little bell sleeves and a skirt that flowed. It was embroidered with wolves, running and curling around her torso. The princess praised the work and though she could not remember doing it, she accepted those praises graciously.

The princess herself dressed in a more western styled gown. It was lilac in color, bringing out the purple to the princess’s eyes. Daenerys complained as she was laced into it, wondering if forgoing the tight fabric would be worth the King’s ire. In the end she decided to stay in the gown and instead opted to loosen the laces. 

“It is hard work being a princess,” Daenerys grumbled as she self adjusted her coronet. It was the same simple silver one from earlier in the day.

“As you say, your Grace,” She replied, causing the princess to smile at her sarcastic tone. They finished just in time for the guard to knock on their door. Daenerys bid him to enter, and then Ser Brandon was before her.

“Your Grace,” Ser Brandon bowed to Daenerys, “My lady,”

“Uncle,” She greeted, curtsying properly. 

“Ah, Sansa,” Her uncle returned, kissing her hand, “You look well, niece,” He complimented her, “Tis a relief you took after your mother instead of your father. Had you taken after your favorite uncle, though” He trailed off, teasing her.

“I would be honored to bear resemblance to Uncle Ben, Ser Brandon,” She teased him back. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Witty,” He replied, “Jory made me aware of the adventure that you had on the journey south, niece. That was quite reckless,” He tilted her chin, inspected the small, faded scrape on her cheek. With the powders and oils that the princess had placed on her skin, it was barely noticeable.

“So I have been told,” She remarked, moving her head out of his grip, “Are you here to escort us to dinner or to chat about my uneventful journey south?”

“I will not doubt have to speak with you after your father has been informed of the situation, though I assure you that I will not be as strict” Ser Brandon told her, “And now, I will escort you both to the feast if you will allow it,”

 “We always welcome a knight in shining armor to escort us,” The princess stated, grabbing her arm, “Lead the way, Ser Brandon,”

He resumed the stance of a guard as he trailed behind them down the corridors. Despite telling him to lead the way, it was actually the princess that led them towards the Great Hall. She could hear her uncle clanking away behind them. 

“What adventure did your uncle speak of?” The princess questioned after a few moments of silence. She knew that she would be asked directly eventually. Her uncle had just pushed up the inevitable.

“We were accosted by men that meant to rob us,” She murmured as they walked, “A child and his father. The boy tried to hit my coin purse, but aimed high,” She gestured to her cheek, “They were farmers from Duskendale whose farm had gone under. They were thin and dressed in rags,” 

“We were not told of any prisoners arriving with your party,” The princess stated.

“No, because we took none. I took pity instead. I bought their weapons from them and told them to head north towards the Saltpans,” She knew that logically what she had done was against the crown law, “He was just a boy. They were desperate,”

 “And if they become desperate again? If the coin you gave them does not last until the Saltpans?”

“My wolf trails them. She will take care of it if it becomes a problem,” She stated with as little affect as she could. The princess looked mildly surprised by her answer, “I warned them that there was no second chance. I hope that they do not try to question it,” 

“You Stark’s have a peculiar bond with those wolves,” The princess uttered after a few seconds of silence. 

“Similar to the one you have with your dragons, no doubt,”

“No, it is different. You have heard Jon describe it, yes?” The princess questioned. She had back in the Stormlands. As someone who had bonded with both, he was uniquely qualified to answer such questions, “You and your wolf, you are one. My dragon and I, we are not. We are two separate beings. I cannot sense my dragon’s pain anymore then he can sense mine. I have seen Ghost whimper when his master is ill. I have seen my nephew wince when Ghost is injured,”

“Well, you know what is said about the ancient Stark’s and their wolves,” She told her coyly, trying to downplay the princess’s correct assumptions.

 “Yes, I do,” The princess nodded. Thankfully they came to the Great Hall then.

 The feast began with a lovely welcome speech from the King himself. Not only did he welcome she and Robb to the capital, but Princess Arianne of Dorne as well. Even the Queen managed to look like she wanted them there. From the speech came the first of over a dozen courses. She and Robb both sat at the high table with the royal family.

 She was seated next to Daenerys at the end of the table. Daenerys whispered an apology before the feast began. Next to Daenerys sat Princess Arianne, and then Princess Rhaenys. The dark skinned Dornish princess was beautiful, resembling her father more so then her Norvosi mother, though she had none of the Martell height. The Queen and King sat in the middle of the table, but to the King’s right sat Aegon, then Robb, Jon, and lastly Viserys. At least the Queen had just put her at the end, instead of sitting her next to Viserys.

 The food was plentiful and the music was jovial. The wine was free flowing as well. Unlike the events and feasts that she had attended before in the capital, everyone here, barring the Queen perhaps, wanted her to have a good time. The princesses were calling for more wine in between laughter and stories. She rather liked them. Even Rhaenys seemed nicer with her Dornish cousin at her side. She bid her to try the Dornish fare, and asked her about her journey south. Arianne complimented her gown and the four of them decided to have a day together tomorrow to go over details for the wedding. They said that they needed a fresh look at the plans they had made.

 When the music started, Daenerys dragged her to dance. It was strange and informal, but it was not unwelcome. Arianne and Rhaenys danced together as well. The fast Dornish beat called for quick steps and lithe movements. The three of them talked her through it. Eventually men joined their little group, and one by one, they were all paired off. She ended up in the arms of Prince Aegon, who was grinning over her shoulder. She turned to fine Jon reluctantly asking Daenerys to dance.

 “You look lovely, my lady,” The prince complimented her as he led her through the steps of the traditional dance.

 “Thank you, your grace,” She replied, “So lovely that you had to race your brother to ask for my hand?” She wondered. The prince was not like the previous blonde prince she had once known. Prince Aegon just laughed and nodded.

 “Brothers shall always be racing one another for the hand of a beautiful maiden,” He retorted, “Besides, Jaemon will have you in the end. I best take advantage of your freedom now, while it is still acceptable,” It thrilled her to hear Aegon say that, _Jaemon will have you in the end._

 “You best take advantage of your pretty, unpromised cousin that is currently dancing with my brother,” She hinted, looking to where Robb was trying to woo the Dornish beauty. Arianne seemed uncomfortable with the strict movements of the traditional dance.

 “As pretty as my cousin is, another alliance with Dorne will not do any good for the crown,” Aegon revealed, “Because I bear the overwhelming burden of being the heir,”

 “An overwhelming burden indeed,” Aegon smirked.

 “As I was saying, as I bear that burden, I must bear another. I cannot simply marry whomever I please. Politics are very precise, my lady,”

 “A lady understands the politics of marriage well, your Grace,” She murmured. The crown had managed to entangle itself in many matches, forging alliances with most of the realm. Her own family was already hopelessly intertwined with them. Arya had married Gendry after all, who was by blood more then half Targaryen, what with Lord Robert and Princess Shaena’s blood. Her father would be loyal to his sister until the end, and because her mother’s words were “Family, duty, honor,” the Tully’s were intertwined as well. Add the Arryn’s into the mix, and peace was actually being sustained. The only wildcard kingdoms with no real bond were the Reach and the Westerlands, “Shall you be marrying the Lady Margaery or little Lady Myrcella?” She questioned.

 “A lady does understand politics,” Aegon murmured, “It is undecided. A match will need to be made eventually,”

 “I personally think that Viserys and Lady Margaery would make a splendid match,” She told him seriously. Aegon was baffled for a moment by her face, but then started laughing. She grinned then, letting her mask drop.

 “You are quite the laugh, my lady,” Aegon told her as the song started to wind down, “I shall have to tell my father that one. Perhaps old Mace can be tricked into it,” Aegon laughed still. He bowed to her at the end, chuckling, “I thank you for the conversation and the dance, my lady. Do go spare my little brother the horror of having to dance with his mother after just dancing with his aunt,”

 She curtsied and pivoted, heading to Jon before the Queen could reach him. She was closer to him. He smiled when he saw her approach, bowing to Daenerys to end their dance. Her friend smiled coyly as she departed, leaving the two of them.

 “May I have this dance, my lady?” He questioned, offering his hand. She placed her own in his, thankful to not be wearing gloves. His skin was warm and soft against her own. She could feel the callouses though.

 “You may, your Grace,” She did promise not to call him your Grace, but his mother was just over her shoulder. She could feel the woman’s gaze on the back of her neck.

 “You look beautiful tonight, though I daresay you look beautiful all the time,” Jon told her as the music started up again. She smiled as her cheeks flushed with the attention. His words were so sincere and honest.

 “Are you trying to charm me, my prince?” She questioned slyly as his hand went to the back of her waist, hot and heavy against the small of her back.

 “I was told by a somewhat reliable source, that source being a trusted elder brother and cousin, that a courtship involves over complimenting a lady and presenting said lady with numerous flowers and trinkets,” He told her with a smile, “Am I wrong?”

 “A lady will never turn down a kind word or a pretty bloom,” She told him, “Though I should warn you that heeding the advice of Robb should always be taken with a grain of salt,” She advised.

 “Which I why I decided to go without the singing of sonnets to you in the courtyard during a public outing,” He teased. “Though I shall if you say that it was you desire,”

 “I believe that I will survive without it, but I shall let you know if I change my mind,” She replied. She believed him when he said that he would do it for her. Robb and Aegon would roast him if he did though.

 “Then I give you fair warning, my lady. I do not like to do things half way. Prepare to be thoroughly courted,” And as the music from their much too short dance started to fade, he pulled a pretty white flower from his sleeve. It was unlike any she had ever seen before. He tucked it behind her ear, fingers trailing down her cheek as he withdrew his hand. He grabbed her own hands, and kissed them both, “Thank you for the dance, Sansa,” He murmured before walking away, leaving her quite breathless.

 “That was rather suave of him,” King Rhaegar appeared at her elbow, smiling fondly at his youngest son as he bowed before Princess Arianne, “Are you engaged for the next set, Lady Sansa?” The King questioned.

 “I am not, your Grace,”

 “Then I would be honored if you would accept my hand,”

 “I am honored to do so, King Rhaegar,” She returned, taking his gloved hand in her own. He wore simple black gloves though they could not fully hide the heat that his skin radiated. He was dressed much like Jon was, all black with just a hint of red in his crown. She had never been so close to him, she realized, even when they had danced in the Stormlands for Arya’s wedding. Now that she was, she could see the tiny pieces that Jon had inherited from his father. While the Stark traits dominated the Targaryen ones, there were similarities she couldn’t help but notice. Jon’s eyes were grey, but the almond shape was all Rhaegar. His height was clearly Rhaegar as well. The Stark line was short and stout. She had inherited her own height from her mother’s side, not her father’s. Rhaegar and Jon had the same cheekbones as well, sharp and defined.

 “ _Is the capital to you liking thus far, Lady Sansa_?” The King questioned politely. She answered before realizing that he had spoken to her in Valyrian instead of the common tongue.

 “Yes,” She answered in the common tongue, “ _It is a beautiful city,”_ She added in the foreign tongue, making sure to butcher her accent. Despite her memories from the past fading, her knowledge did not. She could still lie perfectly, speak the tongues that she had learned, and even her muscles remembered the motions of certain tasks that she had certainly never done here. She had been practicing wielding her small blade, and using a sword she swiped from the Winterfell armory.

“I am glad to hear it, my lady,” The King told her, speaking in the common tongue now, “I know that my sister has a great deal of things already planned for you in the city, my son as well, but I would like to offer you the use of our language master. It is the same master that taught my own children, and your Aunt, the tongue,” She had no real way of refusing his kind offer without seeming impolite or revealing her true knowledge of the language. He believed her to have learned solely from books.

 “I could not accept such a kindness, your Grace, not when you are already doing so much for my brother and I,” She told him instead.

 “Nonsense. I insist,” The King replied.

 “Then I thank you, your Grace,” She told him, accepting his kind offer. He spoke of the unequal schooling that traditional standards dictated for men and women of the court. His view on the matter was quite different from most Westerosi men. He believed that both men and women should learn all aspects of living, from sums, to menus, to staffing, and beyond. It was refreshing to hear. She believed him too, especially with a wife like her Aunt.

 When the music started to fade away, she felt the strangest thing. It was like the rush of blood that you experienced during a fight. Her heart picked up in pace and her skin tingled with something. She excused herself from the king and made her way towards one of the back doors, heading towards the small outdoor courtyard she knew existed.

 As the cool evening breeze hit her face, she felt the saliva pooling in her mouth even though it really wasn’t. She brought her fingers up to her lips, just to make sure. She tasted blood a second later.

  _Lady_

She realized what it was just as she was pulled violently into the body of her wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took so long to update! I thought summer would bring about a lot of extra time to focus on writing but between summer courses and working, I've less time then ever. Hopefully I will able to consistently update this in a timely manner. Thank you for staying me this series and writing such nice reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets a taste of blood and betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this story! I loved reading your comments and thoughts. I hope to continue to update this on a weekly basis, and your reviews and comments definitely help.

_She blinked. She was no longer standing in the well kept gardens of the Red Keep, surrounded by blooming roses and carnations. She was no longer listening to the light trill of music floating out from the dining hall, and the voices of her companions had faded completely. Instead, she was in an unkempt clearing in the woods. She could smell the fresh pine trees and the scent of wet soil. She could feel the hard ground beneath her paws, the bracken that covered it. There was a light fog rolling in from the North._

_The moon was full and high in the sky, illuminating the gory scene laid before her. There was an elderly couple cowering behind a large oak tree. They looked to be simple farmers, dressed in rags that were well cared for and heavily patched. The man held a short knife in his dirty grip. There was a slice of red blood on his face, dripping slowly down his cheek. The woman looked unharmed though frightened, cowering behind the man with her own dirty hands clutching his shoulder. She could see them physically shaking, she could smell their fear._

_A few feet away a young, familiar little boy, a boy of age with Bran, laid. There was a large chunk missing from his neck, but no other signs of injury. His death had been quick and nearly painless. His blood had left his body rapidly, leaving him dead within a matter of seconds, leaving him no time to fear it. The sticky red substance pooled around him, shimmering in the pale moonlight. Blood that she could taste in the back of her throat. Sweet, and coppery._

_Then there was the middle aged man, that horrid lying leech of a man. His hair was dirty, his clothes ragged, and his hands splattered with blood. She could smell the difference between the blood on his hands and the blood on her tongue. It was different then the boy’s, different the man’s own blood. There were vicious bite marks on the shoulders of the man, both arms torn free completely. In one severed hand, the man held a small pouch of coin. In the other, a bloodied knife. It had the same scented blood as the blood on the hands, as the blood dripping down the poor farmer’s cheek. He had attacked the farmers._

_He had betrayed his promise to her, while Lady had kept it. She had done this._

_She tore Lady away from the feast she had made for herself, taking the pouch of coin in her bloody muzzle. It smelt familiar, like the lemon and vanilla that Lady's subconscious attributed to her master. It smelt like her.  She approached the farmers slowly, trying to convey a harmless demeanor. Based on the fact that the couple had probably just witnessed her attack and murder the older man, she doubted it would work. It did not. They cowered in fear of her. The scent built around them. They were sweating._

_The man held the knife aloft at a strange angle, as if the short little blade would have any chance of deflecting her attack should she chose to do so. She stopped and dropped the pouch, nosing it closer to them before retreating a few steps, sitting on her haunches. The man cautiously stepped forward, picking up the pouch. He poured the coins out, looking at the gold and silver pieces. She laid down on her stomach, whimpering. The man nodded to her and began to pull the woman away._

_“Thank you,” The woman whispered as her husband pulled her deeper into the brush._

* * *

 

“Sansa! Lady Sansa!”

She blinked. She was no longer looking at the gory scene of death somewhere north of the city on the path to the Saltpans, but instead into the worried eyes of Jon, who was crouching on the balls of his feet, fingers gripping her shoulders to keep her upright. She realized with a jolt that she had somehow ended up on the ground, braced against a stone column. She felt disoriented and limp. She was sure that the only she was upright was because Jon held her as such. 

“You fainted, my lady,” Jon gripped her shoulders a bit tighter. His words were false, she could hear it in his tone. He was lying. He knew. She noticed then that they were not alone. There were guards fast approaching, metal clanging as they sprinted to their prince, ‘You fainted,” He repeated softly.

“We heard you call out, your Grace,” One of the regular household guards told them as he arrived, sword drawn. His eyes scanned the scene, looking for whatever trouble have fallen on them. When he saw none, his arm relaxed an inch.

“Prince Jaemon” Her uncle had arrived with another member of the Kingsguard, “Loren said he heard you shouting out. Sansa, good gods, are you alright?” He uncle noticed her then, kneeling immediately next to Jon. She was less dizzy then she had been, but she still felt strange. It was probably more so that she was in shock.

“Sansa?” She resisted the urge to sigh as Robb and a few other members of the feast joined the crowd. Her brother was instantly on the ground next to Jon and Ser Brandon, reaching out to feel her forehead with his calloused hand, “Are you hurt?”

“I am fine,” She managed to get out in between Brandon, Robb, and Jon all fawning over her, “I merely fainted. I apologize for creating such a scene,” She told them all.

“You fell ill on the journey to the Stormlands, slept for nearly a week.  You fainted then as well,” Robb pointed out. She swatted his hand away from her forehead. She was fine. The panic of Jon knowing and the betrayal of the man was starting to ebb. She was more embarrassed at the moment. She had caused quite the scene, and now everyone would see her as weak. But she hadn’t actually fainted.

“I am fine, Robb, only embarrassed now that I’ve provided the entertainment for the evening,” She muttered honestly. Ser Brandon chuckled at her dry tone while the other two assured her that she had not. Thankfully the other members of the guard were ushering people back into the Great Hall. Unfortunately, the guards could not usher the King and Queen. The King had a look of concern on his face. The Queen looked curious. She did not hazard to think what that could mean 

“Are you well enough to stand, Lady Sansa?” The King questioned kindly.

“Of course,” She tried to stand on her own, but both Jon and Robb ended up hauling her onto her feet by her elbows. She did not complain over that for she welcomed the warmth of Jon’s hand, “I am truly well. I am not dizzy, the garden is not spinning, and I see only one of each of you,” She assured them all.

“You are bleeding, niece,” Her aunt pointed out, her voice strangely confused. Robb twisted her arm gently, showing her where she had scraped her elbow. She must have done it against the stone column as she sunk to her knees when she unexpectedly warged. The blood had stained her light colored gown, “You should let the maester clean and bandage it,”

“It is just a small scratch, nothing to fret the maester over,” She murmured, twisting her arm from Robb. It stung a bit but it was not life threatening. She had had worse in the old realm.

“Here, take this, my lady,” Jon passed her a handkerchief from his pocket. She held it over the wound to prevent the blood from dripping. Ser Brandon pulled her hand away gently, tying it around the wound instead, so that she was not forced to hold it in place.  

“Thank you, your Grace, Ser Brandon” She murmured.

 “Are you sure that you do not wish to see a maester? We can wake Pycelle, Lady Sansa,” King Rhaegar told her again.

 “No” She answered a bit too quickly after hearing that name. Her heart was racing once again, “No, please don’t trouble him. It is very late. I will be fine. I am perhaps a bit more travel fatigued then I realized. A good night of rest shall remedy it,” She spoke too quickly but no one seemed to mind.

 “As you wish, Lady Sansa,” King Rhaegar nodded, “My sister retired for the night before you fainted. Jaemon will escort you back to your chambers with a guard and your brother,” She hadn’t even noticed her friend’s absence until the king spoke of it.

“Thank you, your Grace,”

 It took a few more minutes of assuring them that she was fine to walk before Robb, Jon, and Ser Brandon were escorting her back to her chambers. Both her brother and Jon kept a firm grip on her elbow as they went, as if a strong breeze might knock her over. Ser Brandon hung back as they entered the corridor her chambers were located on.

 “Are you sure you are alright, Sansa?” Robb questioned as they approached her door. He was looking at her in concern. She would tell him about the incident after, when she knew what Jon knew.

“I am fine, Robb, just travel weary. I promise that it is nothing like the illness that befell me on the journey to the Stormlands. I will be fine on the morrow, we will talk more then” She assured her brother.

"If you say so,” Robb replied somewhat grudgingly, “You have half of a minute, cousin. I shall be counting. Sleep well, sister,” He told her.

“You as well, brother,” She replied, glaring at him in mock annoyance until he stepped away, turning to face their uncle instead of them. She turned to face Jon.

“Pleasant dreams, my lady,” Jon took her hand and pressed a kiss to the skin there.

“Goodnight, your Grace,” She murmured, a bit confused and disappointed. She had expected something different, something about the warging. Maybe Jon hadn’t known the truth. Maybe he had been telling the truth earlier. Perhaps that skills that Baelish had engrained so vehemently in the Vale were fading.  Jon dropped her hand and stepped as if he were heading back to Robb and Ser Brandon. He stepped closer to her though.

“Meet me in the Godswood,” He murmured before truly walking away from her. Ah, so her skills were not fading at all. She was glad for it. She never wanted to be as weak and naïve as she had been in the first realm, even if it meant living with those memories.  She entered her room and watched them turn the corner before barring her door.

She stripped out of her blood stained gown, cleansing the wound with water and the salve that sat on her vanity. It was a cure all salve, made from the mineral rich waters of the Riverlands. Her mother had gifted it to her before she left Winterfell. She changed into her navy blue nightgown. She donned the matching dressing gown. They were the most appropriate items of clothing that she had. The kerchief that Jon had given her to staunch the flow of blood was stained through. She left it on her side table, next to the flower he had given to her, to remind herself to make him another.

She waited a few minutes before slipping out of her chambers. She only encountered one guard on her journey out of the castle, and her explanation of praying seemed to satisfy him. He offered to escort her, but she declined politely, telling him that she did not wish to distract him from his duties.

Jon was not yet there when she arrived. She took a seat near the reflection pool, enjoying the way the fish under the water seemed to chase each other. The moon was full and high in the sky, providing good light, just as it had for the scene of death Lady caused.

Ghost arrived before his master. She sensed his presence just before she heard the crunching of leaves, and then the big white wolf was entering the clearing. He walked straight to her, sniffing her neck while she scratched his ears. The wolves were such docile lap dogs when they wished to be. Even Shaggy, the biggest of them all, was a glutton for a tummy scratch and a piece of smoked meat.

“You’ll spoil him, my lady” Jon told her, causing her to jump slightly at his voice. She hadn’t even heard him approaching, “Apologies, I did not mean to startle you,”

“It is okay, I was in my head,” She murmured as he lowered himself down next to her.

“Earlier, I watched you leave the hall after dancing with my father. I waited a few moments before I followed you to be less obvious about it all,” Jon told her without preamble, “I found you on the ground, against the wall. I shouted before I approached you, worried that you were ill. But then I saw your eyes as I got closer,” He told her softly, speaking lowly encase anyone was around to hear them, “They were the strangest shade of white, nearly transparent, milky almost,” The way he spoke sounded like an accusation or a question, as if he were asking if his suspicions were true without speaking the actual words. Protecting himself encase she was not like him, encase she did not know what warging was. It was a good way to go about it.

“When we were little, Old Nan used to tell us these spectacular stories about the magic and dragons and Old Valaryia. She would tell us about the Land Beyond the Wall, the creatures that lived there, and the Stark’s that ruled before the dawn of time, before Aegon conquered the realm. These stories say that the Stark’s of old had these massive direwolves that they used for protection, hence our sigil. Never far from hand, the wolves were like a constant shadow to their masters. A shadow that their masters could slip into, could become one with their protector,” She whispered, still petting Ghost, “I thought magic was a tall tale, but here we are. Dragons are alive and thriving, and wolves? Well, you’ve heard the stories”

“Variations of it, yes” Jon nodded slowly, “How long have you known?” Jon questioned curiously.

“I do not know for sure, it seems like forever,” She shrugged, lying easily though she hated doing it with Jon, “And you?”

“When I was fourteen, I went to the Wall with Aegon to see our uncle Aemon. He noticed the strange bond between Ghost and I. He told me about skin changers, gave me a book that taught me how to do it, how to change skins,”

“The wildlings call it that. We call it warging,” Her old Jon had referred to it as skin changing back in the first realm. He had learned about it from the wildlings. From a man who controlled an eagle or something.

“Warging, yes” Jon nodded, “I never knew for sure but I had hoped that you all could do the same with your wolves. But you cannot just write to the cousins you barely see once a year and ask though, can you?”

“No, I suppose you cannot,” She agreed with a small smile, imaging the surprise that a letter like that would have been, “I told Robb that I was going to ask you about it, but he feared that you would label us insane and have us locked up. I shall have to tell him that I was right about you,”

“He can do it too? Can anyone else in your family do it?” Jon wondered, sounding excited. He had probably feared he was the only one.

“Robb and Bran can. I am not sure about Arya or Rickon. Rickon is much too young now anyways. He would always be warging into Shaggy to avoid lessons and such,” She joked. Jon laughed, nodding his head.

“When you warged tonight, you did not mean to, did you?” Jon questioned after a few seconds.

“No, I did not,” She knew that she would tell Jon the truth eventually. She knew that he would not think less of her because of it, “I can usually control it, slip into her head when I wish, but sometimes when Lady is too excited, I get pulled in. I could feel the excitement burning through my veins, so I left the feast, knowing what would come. I tasted blood, and then I was looking through the eyes of my wolf,” She murmured. She could still taste the blood.

“Your wolf was not spotted with your caravan when you arrived. They only reported one wolf, and since I have seen Greywind, I know it is Lady who is missing,” Jon surmised, “You looked ill when your emerged from her mind. Will you tell me what you saw?” He questioned gently. He would not force her to tell him.

“It is not good,” She admitted, “This morning, we were detained by highway robbers. A man and his young son accosted us just after we left the inn. The boy’s arrow scraped my cheek, causing the mark you saw earlier,”

“You should have told my father,” Jon told her seriously, “Robbers are dangerous,”

"I know that, I do. But I took pity. The boy was barely older then Bran. I gave them coin in exchange for their weapons. I warned them that if they betrayed their promise to not harm anyone else, that I would know and that they would pay for their crimes. I believed them when they promised that they would not,”

“You had your wolf follow them though,” Jon guessed.

“Yes, as a precaution. I told Lady to stay, to follow them to the Saltpans. I was pulled into her in time to see that they had not listened. They had attempted to rob an older couple. Lady killed the boy instantly, he suffered from no pain. But she ripped the man limb from limb,” She whispered, trying to appear affected by it all. She wasn’t though. She was angrier at herself for thinking that the two could be innocent. She should have known better. She should have not shown mercy. Only a few months into this realm, and she was already growing soft, weak.

Jon sighed softly and took her hands into her own, squeezing gently.

“I am sorry that you had to see that,” Jon told her sincerely.

“I am sorry that I fell for their deceit,” She murmured, “The couple witnessed it all. They are no doubt scarred for life. I should have allowed my guards to take them to your father. I should have not shown them mercy. I shall have to tell your father on the morrow, lest they find the ravaged bodies or hear the couples story and fear wolves are attacking,”

“I could speak to him for you,” Jon offered instantly.

“No, though I thank you. I must do it myself,”

“Then I will ask him to speak with you, without my mother’s presence,” Jon gave her half of a grin, “He will not be angry. He would have done the same thing. He tries to give second chances when they are deserved. You saw a starving father and his son. You relieved them of their weapons, gave them coin for food, and sent them towards honest work. It is not so bad to want to see the good in the world instead of the evil,” He told her softly.

“We live in a time of peace, we should only see the good,” She told him, thinking of all the evil that she had seen in the past world. Any evil in this realm would pale in comparison. Even simple highway robbers were tame. Men in the last realm that would accost parties on the roads were ruthless. Arrows would have true aim.

“Peace is not always as peaceful as you’d imagine,” Jon told her, “The North is a good place, my lady. They have honor there. The capital is much different. Peace we may have, but there is always trouble brewing under the surface. Remember that while you are here,” He warned her seriously, “Take care with who and where you speak freely. We are safe in the Godswood, but the capital is full of listening ears,”

She was not surprised to hear it, but it still stung. She had hoped that the capital would be a better place. Apparently things were still the same though. If she was remembering correctly, Varys was in place during the Targaryen’s regime in the past realm. He could just as easily be a player in this one. 

“Forgive me if this is forward, but I had heard stories of a man named Varys,” She used the term man loosely for Varys was not, “The master of secrets and whispers, I heard him called. Is he someone I should avoid?”

“Varys is loyal to House Targaryen,” Jon told her simply, “He is rather, well, creepy is a word that I would use,” Varys and Pycelle, both still in the capital city. She had yet to find a person who wasn’t around in this new realm. All the players were still here, still capable of playing the game, still capable of causing her family harm.

“I shall endeavor to not purposely seek him out then,” She told Jon though she planned on doing the exact opposite.

“You will be quite successful in that measure. Varys is never seen unless he wishes to be,” Jon told her, shaking his head, “I do not wish to dampen your view on the capital or the Crownlands, my lady. I hope to show you a better picture while you are here with us,”

“I look forward to that,” She murmured honestly. She did not want to see the evil, but she knew it lurked. She wanted to see the realm from Jon’s view, a view untroubled by unshakable past evils.

“I should escort you back to your chambers. No doubt my aunt will wish to wake you early tomorrow morning for bonding of some sort,” Jon murmured. She allowed him to help her from the ground, relishing in his warmth as he tucked her hand into his elbow, standing them closer then strictly proper. They ran into no guards on their journey back, though Jon seemed to know a roundabout way that had them traveling down small, hidden corridors that she had never seen before.

“Wait a moment,” He stopped her at the entrance to her corridor, looking down the hall for guards. She herself could hear the telltale clink of armor. It sounded as if it were getting fainter, “My father increased security with your arrival. They do rounds continuously. He will be back in a few minutes,”

“I shall remember that when we sneak out again,” She told him with a smile.

“Who says we will be sneaking around anymore?” Jon teased, “Sweetest dreams, Sansa,” He wished her as he brought her hand up to his lips to kiss.

“And you, Jon” She returned as she slipped into her chambers. She barred the door and only after did she hear Jon’s footsteps fading away.


	6. Chapter 6

She woke up early to her maid, Liv, pulling the drapes wide, letting the sunshine and warm breeze into her room. She breathed in the salty air and relished in the feeling of the sun upon her skin for a moment longer. It looked and felt to be a beautiful day.

“The princess has asked for your presence as soon as you are ready, Lady Sansa,” The maid told her as she moved a tray onto her little table, the scent of warm honey engulfing her senses. She nodded blearily as she made her way to the table, salivating at the sight of the steaming oats and fresh fruit. It was as if they were in the Reach. Everything was so fresh and juicy. 

She ate quickly while the maid pulled out her clothing for the day. After freshening up and washing her skin with the basin and cloth, she was laced into a light blue gown. It nearly matched the colors in her chambers, an icy Arryn blue as opposed to the Tully navy. She brushed out her plaits while the maid did the buttons and laces on the back of the gown. They were very intricate. Her parents had gifted her with a dozen new dresses, each with laces and buttons and clasps more intricate then the last. She laughed when she thought of her mother's probable reasoning behind it. The harder it was to put on, the harder it would be to take it off.

She dabbed oils behind her ears, between her breasts, and on her wrists as the maid twisted her hair into a half up, half down style. She knew it would be hot on her neck to wear it like that but it looked the most becoming styled that way.

The maid led her to Daenerys chambers because she still was unsure of the correct path. She passed several guards on the way there, each one nodding to her politely as she passed. Her uncle greeted her with words but the rest were silent.

“Lady Sansa!” She heard Jon call her name, and turned. He was walking down the corridor alone, no Aegon or Robb in sight.

“Prince Jon” She greeted properly, aware of the maid beside her as they both curtsied. Jon greeted the maid politely, who then in turn gave them a few feet of space even though she was probably bade not to allow them such a thing by the king.

“Good morning,” He grinned, “You look lovely this morning, Sansa. Are you going anywhere in particular?”

“You look quite dashing as well, Jon,” She returned easily, “Your Aunt has called for me,”

“I assumed that she would. I will not keep you from her any longer. I only wished to give you these, my lady,” He produced another three flowers from his sleeve, this time they were a pale yellow, tied together with a green ribbon. They were just as beautiful as the white one he had given her last night.

“They are lovely. Thank you, your Grace,” She told him, bringing the bouquet to her nose to sniff. It had a scent like no other, fresh and sweet.

“You are welcome, Lady Sansa. I look forward to seeing you later in the day” He told her courteously as he walked away. The maid rejoined her a second later, a shy smile on her face 

“Allow me, Lady Sansa,” She murmured, taking the flowers and threading them into her hair. She tied the green ribbon in a bow, or so she said, “They are called primroses. They grow exclusively in the royal gardens,” 

“They are quite pretty,” She replied as they kept walking down the corridor towards Daenerys’ room. She was starting to recognize the corridors and junctions they walked past. She would soon be able to make the journey on her own.

“Here we are,” The maid murmured, stopping outside of the princess’s chamber door. 

“Thank you, Liv, that will be all,” She murmured. Liv curtsied and left. She knocked lightly against the heavy wood and steel door. There was a guard a few feet away, staring at the wall across from him. He paid her no attention. She would have barely noticed him, had it not been for the way the sunlight hit his armor. They were skilled at blending in. 

“Enter” Daenerys called from within the chamber. She pushed open the door, shutting it softly behind her. The princess was just stepping into her gown for the day. It was Dornish again, this time a dark red color, “Ah, Lady Sansa, good morning,”

“Good morning, your Grace,” She murmured.

“Come, help me with these retched laces,” Daenerys bade as she pulled the gown over her shoulders. The gown had a few hooks and then leather laces to bind the back that it covered. That being said, the back did not cover much. The laces only went from her arse to her lower back, leaving the top and middle exposed completely. She tied them tightly, loosening them a bit when the princess grunted.

“There we are,” She pulled the blonde hair back from its spot over her shoulder, letting the silver cover her bare skin.

“Bare back is all the rage, my lady,” Daenerys told her with a grin, “Are you ready to spend the morning with two wine happy Dornish princesses pouring over wedding details that have been changed a dozen times already?” She questioned.

“I am looking forward to it, princess,” She remarked with ease. She was not lying. She wanted to get to know Princess Rhaenys better, “Will the Queen be there as well?” She questioned lightly. Daenerys knew her game though, and laughed.

“No, thank heavens,” The young princess smiled, “If there is one thing that the Queen does not excel at, it is planning a party. She does not have the patience for it,” Daenerys told her, “Come now, or Rhaenys shall disinvite us to her big event,” 

She found herself being dragged down a new corridor, and then through a familiar exit. They were in the gardens then. She led her to the exact same spot that Lady Olenna had tried to broker a marriage between Loras and she. It was different, but she could picture it clearly. Instead of two ladies of the reach, she found herself before two princesses of Dornish descent and a decanter of red wine. 

“Ah, good morning, Dany, Lady Sansa,” Princess Rhaenys greeted near happily. Daenerys was right. They both seemed wine happy. It was a bit early for her taste but she supposed the princess was nervous about it all.

“Good morning, niece,” Daenerys smiled, “I see we’ve started in on the drinking of wine,” 

“That we have,” Princess Rhaenys smiled, “Grab a glass and join us, would you not?”  Daenerys only smiled and gestured for a servant. She spoke briefly before the maid scurried away.

“Well then, let us show Lady Sansa what you have planned already,” Daenerys took the seat next to her niece, picking up a leaf of paper covered in writing and fabric swatches. A few minutes into explaining how long it had taken them to plan this much, the maid returned with two more goblets and a new canter of wine. They were both poured heavy glasses of the Dornish red.

The wedding itself was going to be relatively large, even for a royal affair. Arianne, as she was bid to call her, labeled the event as a true Dornish bash. Apparently half of Dorne itself was coming to the capital in a moon’s turn to witness the nuptials. After all, Arianne would be their new princess. Even the citizens of the city were invited to share in the festivities. There was no formal invitation. There would be public feasting and partying. She was the first royal to be married since the King married her aunt. It was a big deal for the city.

The feast was to have over twenty courses, encompassing both the Dornish palate and the traditional Crownlands palate. There was to be no doves because Rhaenys did not like birds, and the King was going to play her a song on his harp before the night’s end. They couple would vacation for a few moons in Pentos before returning to Westeros. They were to live in Dorne at Sunspear. Rhaenys seemed excited to live in the far South with her mother’s family. Arianne sounded thrilled to have her there as well. As for the affection between Rhaenys and Quentin, there seemed to be little. Rhaenys was more excited to spend time with her cousin then her husband. Arianne did not seem bothered by this at all, even though the intended was her own brother. They did not dwell long on Quentin though, not when there were far more important things to discuss.

The color scheme was a mix of the Targaryen and Martell colors. Rhaenys gown, which was already completed, was an airy mix of reds, oranges, and gold. The groom would wear orange and gold. Rhaenys declared, after her third glass of wine or so, that no one was to wear black to the wedding. The dissolved into giggles as Daenerys asked what she expected majority of the men in their family to wear. The laughed at the idea of the King in orange, but when Daenerys brought up Viserys or Jon in such colors, Rhaenys was out of her seat with giggles. Arianne looked amused by their giddiness.

“You’ll have to procure a gown in those colors, Lady Sansa. I doubt as a Northerner that you own such things already. You all have such a penchant for dreary colors,” Rhaenys told her after their laughter had died down.

“I shall indeed, princess,” She replied smoothly, not commenting on the fact that the princess had just invited her to the wedding. It was unclear of how long her and Robb would be here, but a moon’s turn was the expected minimum. 

“Maybe something brown or dark red. The true colors of my house would clash horrendously with that hair,” Princess Arianne stated, picking up a lock of her reddish orange curls, “Such an intriguing color. It nearly looks like freshly spilt blood,”

“Such an intriguing comparison, Princess Arianne,” The King was before them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Both she and princess Arianne made to stand, but the King bade them not to fret over bowing, “I believe it is called Tully red. Tis a color seen mainly in that line,”

“You are correct, your Grace,” She murmured.

“He usually is, and if he isn’t, he still is” Daenerys muttered. The king laughed at his sister’s teasing. It was strange to see them act as such.

“I am truly sorry to interrupt such important business between the four of you but I require I moment of Lady Sansa’s time,”

“We were nearly finished anyways, father. I have a fitting with the dressmaker just before tea time,” Rhaenys replied as she picked up her planning portfolio, “Father, do not forget that you must make sure no one is in black. It is essential to the color scheme,” 

‘I have not forgotten, dear. But why incite your uncle or brother for that matter before absolutely necessary? I shall have something made for all of them but I will not tell them until it is too late,” The King told his daughter seriously. 

“As you will,” Rhaenys retorted, “Arianne was already accompanying me, you may as well, Aunt,” The girl offered. Daenerys looked to her.

“I shall be fine, go with them” She told the princess, who nodded.

“If we may, Lady Sansa,” The King gestured for her to walk with him. Once they were out of earshot of the three ladies, he spoke again, “My son informed me this morning that you wished to speak with me, my lady,”

“I did, your Grace,” She replied, “And I thank you for making time for me so promptly,”

“Jaemon told me that it was important,”

“It is, your Grace,” She murmured, “If it would be alright with you, I would prefer not to speak of it in the open. It is a bit sensitive of a topic,”

“Of course, Lady Sansa. We can adjourn to my solar,” He led the way. She had never been in the King’s solar before. She had heard her father speak of it, but she had never seen it. It was in a different wing then where she knew the royal chambers to be. She supposed that no one wanted to mix business and pleasure. There were two Kingsguard members trailing them, neither of them her uncle. When the reached the doors to the solar, the guard stopped.

“You may both wait outside. Lady Sansa means no ill will,” The King told them. They both nodded before allowing them to pass into the solar.

It was what she imagined a king’s solar would look like. There were books overflowing onto all surfaces, maps hung on the stone walls, and a desk that looked as if a strong gust of wind had torn through it. Clearly the King was a busy man.

“Please sit, my lady,” He told her as he seated himself behind his desk.

“Thank you, your Grace,” She replied as she sat in the plush black velvet chair. She sat straight and squared her shoulders, “I must first apologize, your Grace. I withheld information yesterday regarding the reason to our delay,” 

“You lied,” The King stated.

"No, your Grace, I simply did not tell you the entirety of the story. I shall start there. The incident that held our party late was a pair of highway thieves, a man and his young son. The son was aiming for my coin purse but he was a bad aim. My cheek took the brunt of the force instead. They were captured, and I took pity on them. They were clearly starved and the boy was just a young lad, barely ten and two, your Grace,”

“You allowed them to go free,” The King stated quietly. She nodded.

“I gave them coin for the weapons that they surrendered and advised them to head towards the Saltpans for work,” She continued, pausing to gauge his reaction. He simply looked a bit confused.

‘Is that all, Lady Sansa?” He questioned slowly.

“No, I am afraid that it is not. I made them swear not to hurt anyone else on the round there, that they would not get a second chance, and that if they did try to harm someone, that they would die,” The king looked mildly surprised by her words.

“Continue, Lady Sansa,” He urged.

“I had my wolf look after them,” She murmured, “What do you know of the bond between wolves and their masters, King Rhaegar?” She questioned.

“I know what my son and my uncle have told me, Lady Sansa,” He answered carefully. 

“Then you know it all,” She remarked, “After our dance, I felt the pull of adrenaline, the sense of the hunt. I did not faint in the courtyard. I learned that the man had tried to rob an older couple. My wolf took care of the two. The couple bore witness to the attack. I wished to tell you because of that. I would not want word to spread that a wolf is attacking in the woods. And I wish to apologize, your Grace, and to ask for your forgiveness,”

He paused, simply looking her over. She did not squirm or look away.

 “Your apology is accepted, Lady Sansa, and there is no forgiveness needed, for you did nothing truly wrong,” The King decided after a moment, “You are a young lady of the North. Some days, I wish that the Crownlands could be as honorable and decent as those in the North are. You saw the good, you gave them a second chance.  It is an admirable quality to have, one that I am afraid has been dwindling in my own self,” 

“We live in a time of peace, your Grace. What bad is there to truly see?” She murmured, watching the King’s reaction.

“A time of peace, of course,” He sighed heavily, “I thank you for coming forward and telling me the truth, Lady Sansa,”

“Thank you for allowing me the time to do so. I know that you must be dreadfully busy, but I appreciate that you allowed me an audience. By your leave, I shall escort myself out and let you get back to your duties, King Rhaegar,”

“You may leave, Lady Sansa, no doubt my sister has ample plans for you today,” The King smiled faintly, “Do try have fun while you are here, my lady. My wife tells me that it is nearly impossible for a Northerner to enjoy themselves,”

"I shall endeavor to try, your Grace," She replied, curtsying as she slipped towards the door.  The King nodded to one of the guards who then opened the heavy oak and iron door for her. She thanked the guard as he pointed her in the direction of her chambers. Princess Daenerys was now with her niece for the afternoon, and she was not in the mood to go back to them to watch a fitting. Instead, she would work on replacing the kerchief she had destroyed last night.

She found her way to her chamber, and dug through her chest to find her sewing basket. She found a kerchief that she hadn’t embroidered yet and plucked that out, along with her grey, black, and red thread. With a needle tucked into her supplies, she headed out of the castle, towards the gardens.

She found a sunny spot that overlooked the Blackwater and sat with her supplies. It was a beautiful day, not too warm with a slight breeze in the air. She had a few hours before the princess would start looking for her, so she made herself comfortable and started her sewing. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with the scrap of fabric, instead choosing to let her fingers do most of the work. Her muse arrived about thirty minutes into her start, sitting on his haunches as he regarded her carefully. His red eyes bore into hers as she slipped the needle through the silken material. Eventually, he laid down at her feet, placing his heavy head on her legs to rest, content to just watch her stitch.

“Well, this looks like quite the afternoon tea party,” Robb drawled from above her. She lifted her gaze from where she was stitching to find her brother, alone. Neither of the princes were with him.

“Brother,” She greeted him with a smile, patting the spot on the ground next to her. He sank down beside her, fingering the cloth still clutched in her own grip, “What are you doing stalking through the gardens by yourself?”

“I had to sit through the most dreadful meeting between the head of the kitchens and a merchant from the city. Father told King Rhaegar that I should see a litany of meetings and as such, I have many more like that already lined up for me,” Robb grumbled, looking aghast at the possibility of more meetings like the one he had just suffered through, “And what of you, sister? Are you feeling well today?” 

‘I feel fine, and I am fine,” She told him seriously, “I met with the King this afternoon because of last night. Do you promise to hear me out and not be terribly mad?” She questioned, leveling her gaze. Robb scrunched his brow but nodded.

“Of course. I am always willing to hear you out without losing it,” He remarked dryly.

“The two that we encountered on the road broke their promise. They attacked an elderly couple on the path North,” She murmured, watching as his expression changed. She held up her hand to stop him before he interrupted her, “Lady took care of them. I was pulled into her last night, which is how Jon found me, slumped against the wall with unseeing eyes. He knew what had occurred and told the lie about fainting. I met with the King this morning to apologize and beg forgiveness,”

Robb continued to stare at her with a mildly angered expression on his face. She noted that he hadn’t shaved since they left Winterfell and had an impressive stubble growing on his cheeks. He looked like their father with his beginners’ beard.

“You may speak now, Robb” She told him when he continued to watch her in silence. 

‘Jon can warg?” He finally questioned. She sighed. That was the piece that he focused on after all that she had told him. She was grateful that he wasn’t berating her or calling her stupid. He was just surprised that Jon could warg.

“Yes, he can. I told you so,” She grinned briefly, “Lady killed the man and his son,” She told him solemnly, “I should have taken them prisoner and brought them to the King for justice. I made a mistake, Robb. The King was kind enough to forgive me. I hope that you shall too,”

“You took pity on a child, it is to be expected,” Robb remarked seriously before grinning, “Besides, what else would I expect from a mere woman? You are all so soft when it comes to children,” He teased, pinching the soft skin of her cheek.

She slapped his arm while he laughed at her outraged expression. He scrambled away when she threatened him with her sewing needle, though he still laughed. He was clutching his stomach from laughing so hard.

“Mercy, Sans, mercy” He choked out, holding his hands aloft in surrender, “Keep your sewing needles for pretty flowers or whatever it is that you’ve painstakingly embroidered for the past hour,” 

“A wolf,” She told him, showing him the white wolf on the square of white linen. She had done a simple direwolf, the sigil of her house. Her fingers knew the movements well. Instead of leaving the eyes as they were though, she had done red to match the beast currently lying on her lap. She had used the grey and the black thread to stitch a simple J under the jaw of the direwolf.

‘Fierce, my lady” Robb commented dryly, “I think a few flowers would really add to the piece though,”

“Robb,” She warned, “Stop teasing,”

“I am not teasing. I would love a wolf and flower kerchief. I am just trying to help you, dear sister,” He gave her a wide grin, ‘But alas, I can see that my opinions are not wanted. Pray forgive me, but I believe I will take my leave now. I must write to father of how enthralling my meeting was. You should remember to do the same,”

 “I will as soon as I finish this,” She promised. She had to write to all of her siblings and her parents. She had promised Rickon before she left. Robb bid her farewell before sauntering off to write his letters, or do whatever it was he was really going to do. She doubted it was a letter. She would receive one from her father, asking Robb to write, before he did it on his own free will. Robb detested penning out long, boring letters. It did not take her long to finish the last stitch. She tucked it under and tied it off. The needle went into her skirts for safe keeping while the kerchief was folded neatly in her hand. She would give it to Jon later. 

“Time to get up,” She murmured to the wolf, who grudgingly rose. He looked so deeply at her with those blood red eyes that she felt as if he could see into her soul. Knowing that it was not right, nor proper, she closed her eyes, focusing on the wolf before her. A second later, she was staring at herself, milky eyed and unaware. She slipped back out of Ghost easily, looking down at him. He seemed unfazed.

“Thank you,” She murmured, scratching his ears. He had allowed her to warg into him, even though she was not his master. She had done it once or twice in the past realm on accident, and yet he still trusted her here, in the new realm. That had to mean something.

She walked with him back to her chambers, only having to ask a servant once on where to go. If anyone found it strange that Jon’s wolf was walking with her, they made no comment. A few younger maids and guards even stepped away from them, as if they feared Ghost. He was an intimidating creature, bigger then both Lady and Greywind, bloody eyes so intense and focused. She enjoyed the feeling his presence gave her, though she longed for Lady as well. 

When they got to her chambers, he left, scampering off down the hall like a common pup. She pushed open her doors and set about finding parchment and ink. She found the materials that she needed and set to work. She penned the first to Rickon as it would be the shortest. She told him about the hot weather and the dragons and the wolves missing him.

The next she wrote to Arya, asking her about how life was in the Stormland’s and telling her about her trip to the capital thus far. She left out the highway robbers and the warging. She added that she was excited for the festival that was upcoming, and for Rhaenys wedding.

Her last letter, to her father, was longer. She wrote to her father first, telling him everything that had occurred and apologizing. She left out the trivial parts about seeing the capital and such. Her father wouldn’t need to read that. She wrote that she was enjoying her time here, that was that. 

By the time that she was done sealing the letters in the grey wax from one of her candles, someone was knocking on her chamber door. She stood and went to open it, revealing a male servant with a letter on a silver tray. She plucked it up and the servant disappeared. She shut her door as she pulled open the grey wax seal. She knew who the silver dragon belonged to. She just could not imagine why her Aunt was sending her a letter when she was at most a few floors away in the castle. She scanned the elegant, yet slightly uneven script,

_"Lady Sansa,_

_Your presence is requested at sunset for dinner in the Queen's Solar._

_Yours, Queen Lyanna Stark Targaryen"_

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

A quiet knock on the door startled her, nearly making her drop the letter clutched between her hands. 

‘Queen Lyanna and Princess Daenerys have invited me to sup with them tonight, along with the other princesses,” She informed her maid as the girl slipped into the room. Liv’s eyes widened briefly, before she nodded curtly. She disappeared for a moment, then was back, rifling through her wardrobe.

“A bath is being drawn for you at the moment, my lady” She told her, slightly breathless. She must have dashed out to find a man servant to haul her water up. Liv knew how important this dinner was for her. She knew that the Queen was not her biggest fan. 

“Thank you, Liv” She replied, appreciating the maid's quick actions, “I think I shall live to wear the charcoal gown though, not the blue,” She would face the Queen in her grey gown, in the colors of her house. The blue one Liv had pulled out was gorgeous, but it was not her color nor her style. It was the sky blue of House Arryn, and the cut was more of the Reach then the North. She would not wear the navy and maroon of her mothers, nor the light pastels that made her look so young. She had to be a Stark tonight. This dinner would be a huge step for her, though she was not sure in which direction she would be stepping. 

Liv did as she was requested and pulled out the charcoal colored gown, putting the blue one away with great care. When the gown was set out, she went about undoing the laces on the dress she currently wore, and then pulling the flowers from her hair. She placed them with the other white one on the little table in the corner.

After she bathed and got tied into her charcoal gown, Liv left, promising to leave the letters with the Maester on her journey. She sat at her vanity and looked herself over. The charcoal was more draining of color then the blue would have been. It made her fair skin look pale as snow. It dimmed the blue of her eyes as well though it did nothing but brighten the red in her hair. She had a few moments before she had to leave, so she pulled out another blank kerchief to work on for Robb, since he complained that she never did anything for him.

When Ser Brandon did arrive, he looked at her half finished R, done in neat pink flowers, and laughed. He complimented her pretty stitches and assured her that Robb would like it very much. As she walked through the Red Keep towards the Queen’s personal solar, where they would sup, she mused on how different the elder generation Stark’s were. She wished that her father’s other sibling was as easy to be around as Ser Brandon was, or even Benjen.

When they got to the solar, there was another Kingsguard at the door. He nodded and let Ser Brandon and her pass through. Princesses Rhaenys and Arianne were missing but Queen Lyanna and Daenerys were there, sitting on the balcony with goblets of wine. 

“Sansa” Daenerys smiled and beckoned her to join them. She stepped up onto the balcony, and curtsied politely, as manners dictated. 

“Your Graces,” She greeted them, smiling nicely at her Aunt, who was watching her over the rim of her goblet. It reminded her of Cersei and her love of wine. Heavens help her, she prayed that her Aunt was not as wine dependent as the Lannister Queen. 

“Niece,” Her Aunt finally spoke, nothing in her tone giving away any sort of feeling or emotion. It was just a single word, uttered with no real direction. Despite being quite skilled at detecting the tone and emotion behind words, a skill Petyr had drilled into her, she detected nothing. It was beyond frustrating. She needed a better read on the Queen to better manipulate her, or win her over. 

“Sit, Sansa, join us,” Daenerys bid her gently, gesturing to the seat next to her. She beckoned the maid forth, who poured her a goblet of the sweet Arbor gold.

“Thank you, princess,” She told her as she tucked into the seat with practiced grace, “It was very kind of you both to invite me to sup with you tonight, your Graces. I am honored to be here,”

“Nonsense, we are family, after all,” The Queen spoke, a smirk playing on the edges of her thin red lips, “Brandon, dear, do you wish to join us?” She questioned, looking over at her brother who was still standing at attention. 

“Sup with five beautiful women? I would be daft to say no, but daft I apparently am. I have promised my nephews a tutorial on swordsmanship, at you leave of course, dear sister,” Brandon replied back smoothly. He was a charmer, that was for sure. The Queen laughed at his antics and nodded.

“Fine, go play with the boys,” Lyanna dismissed him, waving her hand with a true smile on her face, “But go easy on them, for heaven’s sake. I do not want to see any bruises or split lips, or black eyes, Brandon!” She added as the knight turned his back on her and started walking away, waving his hand as if he knew the spiel. Even Daenerys was smiling.

“What say you, niece? Do you suppose your brother would look better with a black eye?” Her uncle questioned as he pulled open the door.

“He leaves his left side woefully unprotected, Ser” She called to him, “He never listens. Do try to remedy that,”

“Acknowledged, niece,” Brandon grinned, “Enjoy your wine and gossip, ladies,” He told them before leaving, the door shutting behind him with a loud thwack. She was now alone with the two, one less buffer between her and the Queen. 

“Perhaps Ser Brandon will teach us a few tricks with the sword,” Daenerys suggested, grinning, “So far he has been resistant to my attempts at having him teach me, but perhaps he would be more willing to teach his niece,”

“You wish to wield a sword, niece?” The Queen questioned, one brow arched delicately. There was disbelief in her tone, plain as day.

“I would indeed, your Grace,” She answered.

“With your delicate disposition it might be wise for you to try something easier, like a bow and arrow,” The Queen replied in a court tone of voice.

“My disposition, your Grace?” She questioned, wondering what the Queen was speaking of now, “I assume that you are not referring to the fact that I am a lady, for you and the princess both dabble in swordplay, as does my sister,”

“No, I am not,” The Queen replied, “But you do have the tendency to faint, niece. Your Aunt Lysa has a similar fragile disposition. I would not wish for you to further jeopardize your health,” She answered, her voice smooth as velvet.

“I have no such disposition, though I thank you for your concern, Aunt” She replied back evenly, ignoring the insinuation that she was like her mad Aunt Lysa, “And as for the bow and arrow, I have already mastered that art,” 

“Oh, we can do target practice too,” Daenerys interjected, sensing the hostility between the two of them, “I can best Aegon but Jaemon is very skilled with the bow and arrow. Perhaps together we can beat them,” She suggested.

“I would like that very much, princess,” She smiled at Daenerys, grateful for her presence. Whatever the Queen was about to say next was interrupted by the two Dornish princesses arriving. She took the opportunity to gulp down several sips of wine while the Queen greeted them properly. Daenerys must have noticed because one of the handmaidens very discretely refilled her goblet.

With the arrival of the elder two princesses, the attention focused on the wedding and what was left to be done. Rhaenys dominated the conversation all through the actual dinner, covering topics from the dress fitting that morning to her future husband’s lack of motivation to actually wed. The Queen got in a few words, here and there, but it was truly Rhaenys' show. Even Arianne looked amused at the constant conversation that the future bride kept going all by herself. She did not mind it. It gave her the chance to observe her Aunt while her attention was focused on someone else.

Despite the cold demeanor that the Queen displayed towards her, she seemed genuinely interested in Rhaenys’ never ending babble. Her grey eyes, which were almost an exact match to Arya’s, were sympathetic at all the right moments and she dutifully bemoaned certain aspects when Rhaenys demanded it. She was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that. The stone façade in her old realm did no justice to the woman sitting before her. Her wide grey eyes were focused on the story Rhaenys told, lighting up in amusement at the entertaining aspects, and flashing in anger when Rhaenys informed her about Quentin’s last letter. Her pale skin was flawless, and her cheekbones were finely chiseled. Her hair, which had the same color and curls as Jon’s, was long and thick. She wore it simply braided over her shoulder, exposing a slender, graceful neck. She looked every bit the monarch that she was. The only thing she could find fault with was the Queen’s thin lips.

When the food arrived, the conversation was put to rest, and they all dug in. She focused her attention on the aromatic selections of foods that he been placed before her. It consisted of a gorgeous rosemary roasted pheasant and the freshest greens she had ever tasted, drenched in an oil emulsion of garlic and something else, something a bit spicier. The turnips were roasted in the same sort of flavor, and by the end of it all she felt rather fat.

By the time the plates were cleared and more wine was poured, the topic of conversation had changed from the wedding to the upcoming autumn festival, which was apparently a huge ordeal in the capital city. 

“Have you heard of it before, Lady Sansa?” Princess Arianne questioned. She had never been a part of it either, she gathered. The did not celebrate such things in Dorne or the North it seemed. The prepared for the upcoming winter when autumn hit. They never held feasts unless it was the end of winter. 

“I had not, no” She answered.

“Then you and I shall have to go find masks in the bazaar soon before all the good ones are taken. Tis a masquerade festival,”

“That we shall,” She was pleased that Princess Arianne was including her, even if the Queen seemed less then thrilled at the idea. Daenerys agreed that it was a splendid idea, and that perhaps they would all go together soon, for she needed a few things to prepare for the festival as well. Only Rhaenys was unconcerned. She cited too many wedding details as her excuse. As Queen, her aunt did not get to wear a mask, nor did the King. They resided over the festival though, in plain sight of the commoners, meeting and hearing them out in a public setting. The idea of the festival was very interesting. You went to the King and Queen to air your grievances while shrouded by a mask. There was protection in that, and as such, more people were willing to participate, to ask for help or report crime, etc. 

“Princess Arianne, you were taught by your Uncle Oberyn, were you not?”  Daenerys asked out of the blue. 

“Taught in which aspect, Princess?” The Dornish girl questioned, Daenerys question abrupt and off topic. 

“Fighting,”  
“Yes, my uncle did teach me a few tricks. His daughters are great warriors in Dorne. I had no real desire to be a deadly assassin, but I learned enough,” The girl shrugged. 

“Then I am recruiting you,” The silver haired princess declared, “Sansa and I wish to learn more. A Dornish interpretation would not hurt,”

“Very well,” Princess Arianne grinned, “But I will not go easy,” She warned.

“We would expect nothing less,”

‘Perhaps when Tyene and Nym arrive for the wedding they can assist in your training as well,” Arianne suggested, “I would volunteer Obara but she knows nothing but giving it her all, and teaching is not her strong suit. I doubt you wish to die in the course of learning,”

“What need do you have for fighting, Aunt?” Rhaenys questioned curiously, “You already learned half of what the boys did from our master at arms, and you are the most capable horsewoman in the Red Keep. What good is a sword going to do when you are constantly surrounded by guards to shield and protect you?”

“All capable women should be able to fight if they wish,” Her Aunt spoke, silencing whatever retort Daenerys was about to tell Rhaenys, “Not all of us want to be pieces of décor, little dolls oiled and coiffed to perfection, simmering smiles and pretty words to be married off to whomever our fathers dictate,” She looked directly at her as she spoke. She understood the reference. Her mother had honored her father’s wish, while Lyanna had not, causing Brandon to abandon his promise, and her mother to bend to her own father once again.

 “I agree with you completely, Aunt,” She told the older woman sweetly. Her Aunt raised a brow but held her tongue. She had noticed that calling the Queen Aunt instead of your Grace or Queen Lyanna made her quite tense and irate. She had a small tick in her jaw. But she had asked Robb to call her Aunt, and to ask her directly to call her anything but would seem strange. She was taking advantage of it, toying with the woman, “Though I do enjoy looking pretty,”

“Mayhap we should practice in gowns, better to hide weapons, less suspicion,” Princess Arianne murmured, “Tyene could probably teach us that. She’s like the maiden reborn,”

“Pity she’s a bastard,” Rhaenys commented airily as she sipped her wine.

“There is nothing wrong with being a bastard,” She spoke before she could really think about what she had just said. It slipped out without a second thought. She had been so used to defending Jon in the past realm.

“Oh?” Princess Rhaenys looked surprised at her words, unsure of what to make of them 

“Children should not be judged by their parent’s actions. If anything, the shame should go to the parents, who knew full well what they were doing,” She answered calmly, hoping that this conversation would die out before anything else could be said.

‘Tis true,’ Bless her silver heart, she thought at Daenerys spoke, “Besides, Dorne does not care about bastards or sex, for that matter. They are just afraid of Tyene because she’s deadly with poisons, and the daughter of Oberyn,”

“Yes, Dorne is a lot freer then the kingdoms above us,” Arianne grinned, “Especially the North, I would think. You lot are quite reserved, are you not?”

“I suppose you could phrase it like that,” She murmured, pretending to ponder the question, “But I prefer to think of it as having different priorities then our southern neighbors. The North is very different then the South, and probably more so then Dorne. We simply value different things,”

“What do you value then, niece?” Her Aunt questioned, brow raised again. The facial expression made her look harsher. It drew her cheekbones in and hollowed out her face.

“Have you been away from home so long that you’ve forgotten what we value, Aunt?” She teased lightly, smiling to show that she meant no true ill will, “I value honor and justice, like my father, and family and duty, like my mother” She answered as she stared directly at her Aunt.  

“Well in Dorne we value enjoying life and its pleasures,” Princess Arianne told her as she took a sip from her wine, “You shall have to visit some time to see how the other half live, if you think your Northern bones can survive the heat,” 

“That is very kind of you, I think my icy bones could withstand it for a short amount of time,” She told the princess. 

The night ended shortly after that. Princes Rhaenys and Arianne promised to show up at the training yard in the morning to coerce the master at arms into teaching them more, and they all parted ways.

She counted the dinner as a success on her part. Sansa, 1, Queen Lyanna, 0.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there are not enough words to convey how sorry I am for neglecting this for so long. I cannot say for sure that I will be able to update on a regular schedule, or when I will update again, but know that I am still very much interested in finishing this story. If there ever does come a time when I abandon it, I will post that it has been ended. I've had a certain storyline in my head since the beginning, and I intend to finish it properly.
> 
> So to those that have stayed with this since the beginning of the first story and those that have started along the way, thank you. I appreciate each and every one of your reviews.


	8. Chapter 8

“Are we just going to watch them?” She questioned as she stood next to Princesses Arianne and Daenerys, watching as the boys trained in the yard beneath them. They had yet to notice them, mostly because Daenerys insisted on stalking and sneaking quietly to their spot. Princess Rhaenys had turned down their invitation to go to the yard in favor of meeting with some sort of merchant involving the wedding plans. Princess Arianne seemed grateful for the distraction though she did bemoan the lack of wine. 

‘No, we are strategizing, plotting” Daenerys replied. They were all dressed in the gauzy Essoi gowns that the silver haired princess favored. Arianne seemed underwhelmed by the garments, commenting that they looked like Dornish whores in the gaudy colors. She wore yellow, which contrasted nicely with her tanned skin. Daenerys was in a purple shade once again. It served to bring out the color in her eyes. She had been gifted a red colored one by Daenerys, who admitted to having quite a few more for her. It did not clash as horribly as she thought it might with her skin. In the heat of the mid-morning, she was grateful for the breezy gown. She could not imagine being laced into the tight constraints of a Northern one.

“Are we going to ambush them?” Princess Arianne questioned quietly, gesturing to the ornate bow that the princess had by her feet. A quiver of arrows sat beside it, untouched.

“We are going to confuse them,” Princess Daenerys replied, “Are you confident in your aim, Lady Sansa? Arianne?” She questioned. They both nodded, “Good, duck down” She grabbed the bow and an arrow from the quiver, sneaking off towards a column and stepping up onto the ornate ledge. She was in the shadows, so the boys beneath would not be able to see her, though she no doubt could see them. She and Arianne peeked through the holes in the middle of the ornate design that was carved into the red clay of the balcony wall. It was limited, but they could see Prince Aegon wiping his brow while Robb took a long sip from his skin of water. She could not see Jon though. 

Daenerys nocked the arrow, and then they heard the thwack of the string as the arrow was released. A split second later, Aegon was jumping backward as the arrow tore through his kerchief, nailing it to the wooden beam behind him. The princess jumped from her perch with a wide smile, motioning them to run.

They sprinted from their spot, following Daenerys away from the training yard, laughing all the while. She led them up a short flight of stairs where they emerged onto another balcony, this time at a different angle from where they had just been. They could see the boys all looking towards where the arrow had come from, guards slowly making their way there. She could see Jon now, he and Robb were both laughing at Aegon. 

‘Ser Dayne saw me before I shot, he knows it isn’t a real threat,” Daenerys explained as she passed her the bow, ‘Go on, take your shot. You don’t even have to hide in the shadows, they aren’t looking towards us, but we will need to run quicker after this one,”

 She looked at the scene again, deciding on what to aim for. There was the obvious choice of the target or the kerchief that was still held to the wall by Daenerys’ arrow. 

“Okay,” She murmured, deciding to just copy the silver haired princess as Aegon went to pull the arrow from his ruined kerchief, flipping off her brother and Jon with a choice finger as he meandered his way over. She stood straight, following the familiar steps that she had been taught in a different realm, remembering the warm hands that guided her, the patience he had as he taught her, as he made her learn for her own protection. 

She released, watching the arrow hit the intended target, splitting Daenerys’ arrow in two and scaring the hell out of Prince Aegon. She heard him curse just as Daenerys pulled her away, ducking down and running from their spot.

“I don’t think I can beat that,” Princess Arianne laughed as they ducked around a corner, this time going down two flights of stairs and then ducking past the household guards that were jogging by to investigate. It was all quite amusing and entertaining. She did not think she had ever had this much fun in the palace before, not even with her father and Arya present. 

“Neither do I. Did you see Aegon’s face?” They all laughed again at the thought of the silver-haired prince.

“What of Aegon’s face?” King Rhaegar and Queen Lyanna appeared, walking calmly down the corridor, dressed for a day at court in matching tones of red and black.

“You shall have to see yourself, brother” Daenerys replied with a grin.

“I heard rumors from the household guards that someone had taken aim at my son, but strangely no Kingsguard member informed me of such an act. I suppose there is no real threat, is there?” 

“You would have to speak with Ser Dayne, he is in the training yard,”

‘I propose that we all go to the training yard, together,” King Rhaegar told them, “Lady Sansa, I was not aware that you had taken up the bow and arrow,” He commented, gesturing to the bow still clutched in her grip. Arianne held the quiver.

“Just for sport, your Grace,” She replied with a demure smile, “My skills are nothing compared to the skill we witnessed in the training yard, King Rhaegar,” Daenerys laughed, smothering her chuckles with the palm of her hand. She passed the bow to the silver haired princess, who took it gleefully. It was made of a sleek white oak and well polished. It had to belong to her personally. She was almost envious of the impeccably made weapon. 

They had no real choice but to follow the King and Queen to the training yard, where the boys were still looking for the shooter in vain. They had chosen to stand back to back as if someone were actually shooting at them. 

‘At ease boys, I believe the culprits have been caught,” Daenerys laughed as they entered the yard. All three of the men looked to them in surprise.

“I heard there was an attack,” The King stated calmly, “Ser Dayne?” 

“All I have to report, your Grace, is that Princess Daenerys’ aim has vastly improved,” The knight replied lazily, flourishing his hand in a mock bow. The princess curtsied.

“That was you?” Aegon demanded, nearly whining, “You nearly scalped me,”

“I was nowhere close to your big head, nephew,” Daenerys replied with a grin.

“You have impressive aim, Princess,” Robb told her, looking at her in a bit of awe, “We never even saw you,”

“I agree, Aunt. That was impressive. And a hard shot, you split the first arrow completely in two,” Jon showed them the two arrows, or rather the three pieces of two arrows. It was not a perfect split down the middle of the first arrow, but it was still quite impressive. She was proud of herself. 

“I cannot claim praise on the second shot, nephew, only the first,” Daenerys replied. The three boys looked between her and Arianne.

“Princess Arianne?” Robb questioned.

“Nor can I accept praise,” The Dornish girl replied.

“No way in the seven hells did Sansa land that shot,” Robb retorted, snorting at the idea as if it were impossible, “You do not even know how to use an arrow,” He told her, looking bewildered at the suggestion that it had been her.

“Is that a challenge, brother?” She questioned, arching a brow.

‘Hell yes,” Robb replied, looking quite sure of himself.

“Do you remember the last time we made a wager, brother? Who won that? And the one before it?”

“Oh, it’s not going to be between you and I, sister. I’m not an archer, I can admit that. But cousin Jon is the best shot I’ve seen. You will not best him,” 

“I do not believe that your father would condone letting his daughter gamble, nor do I think that making wagers is part of the courtship process,” The Queen interjected, “And you, my nephew, you will watch your language or I will have to write to your father,” She added.

“Oh, come now, Lya, it’s the training yard. There are no rules for language in the training yard,” Aegon told her seriously.

“He has a point, dear, etiquette has no place in the training yard, even in the presence of ladies and Queens,” King Rhaegar patted her shoulder, “And I for one am eager to see how Lady Sansa fares against our son,” 

“I will accept a challenge if the prince is willing,” She spoke up, holding out her hand for Jon to shake. He hesitated before nodding.

‘I accept your challenge,” He told her, shaking her hand strongly but softly, “What are the terms, cousin Robb?”

“Oh, do not let him pick,” Daenerys pouted, “Or better yet, he can pick Jon’s, and I will pick Lady Sansa’s, nephew,”

“If Robb gets to do it because Lady Sansa is his sibling, I should get the honor to do it as well as I am Jon’s sibling, not you Aunt” Aegon pointed out.

“I claimed it first, Aegon” Daenerys replied with a smirk, “Besides, whatever wager you would have picked would not have been appropriate in the presence of the King and Queen, also known as his parents and her aunt and uncle,”

Jon flushed pink at his aunt’s words. Aegon laughed, clearly caught. Lyanna gave Daenerys a heavy look and sighed, while Rhaegar merely looked amused at the situation.

“If Lady Sansa bests Jon then you, brother, will order Ser Brandon to teach us swordplay," 

“Now you are using Lady Sansa for your own personal vendetta” Aegon pointed out.

“I wish to learn from Ser Brandon as well,” She told them.

“Very well,” King Rhaegar nodded, “Lord Robb?”

“Can we get the same wager? Cause I would like Ser Brandon to teach us well,” Robb told him honestly. 

“We’ve trained with him before,” Aegon pointed out. 

‘I haven’t” Robb shrugged.

“Then those are the terms,” Rheagar spoke before anyone else could protest, “Do you agree with them, Ser Brandon?” She had not even noticed her uncle’s appearance until now. He must have been behind the King and Queen on their journey here.

“I suppose so,” Ser Brandon answered, “I will not go easy on any of you though, blood or gender be damned,”

“You have all been warned,” The King told them, “Now, what sort of competition are we thinking? Basic targets? Moving?” 

‘The whole lot of them” Aegon answered, “Hill, fetch Jon’s bow, would you?”

‘You may use mine if you wish, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys passed her the bow.

“I do wish. It is a beautiful piece of work,” She complimented her while the other bow was being fetched by poor Hill. The boy returned, panting and holding the polished black bow. It was even more beautiful than the princess'.

“Are you the judge, father?”

“As the King, I suppose I am,” King Rhaegar replied, “No funny business, Aegon, that goes for you as well, Dany,” They both nodded. Hill and the other boys in the yard went about setting up their targets. They would start with the simple bull’s-eye it seemed. There were two, one for each of them, “You have five arrows each. Whoever has the most arrows closest to the middle wins,” The King told them. Simple enough. 

“You just have to hit the little red circle in the middle,” Robb told her with a smirk as he stepped next to her. She scowled at him as she took her stance.

* * *

 

_“You need to learn this, Sansa. You have to be able to protect yourself,”_

_“I know, I know, but you yelling at me is not helping,” She huffed, readjusting her grip on the old and slightly out of balance bow Jon had given to her. They had a mismatch of arrows, most in worse shape than the ones before it. Blood still clung to half of them, having been pulled out of the bodies of enemies and their own over the past few weeks._

_“I am not yelling at you,”_

_‘You are too,” She retorted._

_“Okay, maybe I was,” Jon sighed, taking a deep breath, “Okay, let’s start over. Relax your mind, your body. Breathe in,” He stood behind her, warming her with his body heat. It was lightly snowing in the Riverlands. They had made camp for the night on their journey north. He slotted his body against hers so that the movements he made she could feel. He positioned his legs, moving hers with him, positioned his arms next. She was more focused on the feeling of his hard, corded muscles then archery, though. His breath was warm against her neck as he slowly explained what he was doing and why she should do that._

_“Three fingers, one above, two beneath the line,” He murmured as he positioned her gloved hand with his bare one. He barely felt cold, or so he told her. She was working on making him a pair of new gloves, lest he lose a few fingers like Ser Davos, “Raise and draw,” He pulled her arms up swiftly so that her stance now mimicked the archers she had seen. The feathers tickled her cheek, “Hold at your cheek,” He murmured against her neck, “Aim,” He went into a long explanation about the bow being an extension of her arm and looking from her arrow to her arm to the bow to the target, or something, “And release,”_

_The arrow soared through the air, hitting the crude target he had made on the tree in the dead center._

_“Now you try,” She hadn’t moved very far from the stance he had positioned her in, so she simply picked up a new arrow and mimicked the position she had just been in, imagining the feeling of his body still pressed against hers. The aiming part was where she hit the trouble, so she improvised. When she released the arrow, it soared wide, missing the tree._

_“I think I need another demonstration,” She told him. He saw the look in her eye. He just chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her once more, resuming his lesson in properly hitting a target._

* * *

 

“Are you ready, Lady Sansa?” King Rhaegar called, shaking her out of her memories of a past life. Everything was set for their competition now. She nodded as Arianne passed her the quiver with the five arrows. She slung it over her back like a proper archer. Next to her, Jon did the same with his own tools.

‘Best of luck, Lady Sansa,” He told her politely, smiling softly at her. 

‘You shall need it, your Grace,” She remarked, winking at him. She saw Aegon chuckle in the corner of her eye, while Jon just smiled wider. He shook his head and focused on the target. King Rhaegar called for attention, and then to begin.

Her first four arrows hit the center with no problem at all. They took their time, shooting leisurely, enjoying the groans and cheers of their family. Robb was the loudest. He was outraged that she could actually shoot. The problem came when it was time for the fifth arrow. Jon had hit the center just as well as she had. There would be no winner at this rate. They had both even split an arrow with another. 

So as Jon nocked his last, final arrow, she made a plan. She nocked hers quickly, aiming at the last second. Jon released, and a split second later, she did as well. Her fifth arrow soared off course, intersecting Jon’s just before it hit his target. His arrow was cut in two, while hers sailed slightly crooked into the middle circle. 

No one spoke.

“Technically speaking, Lady Sansa has landed more arrows on the target then Jaemon,” Daenerys spoke before anyone else could. They all seemed impressed by her shot. She was impressed that it had worked.

‘She cheated,” Aegon protested at the same time as Robb.

“There were no rules established,” Daenerys replied with a smile, “Jaemon, what say you on the matter?” She questioned. Jon was watching her, a slightly amused and slightly surprised expression on his face.

“I say that Lady Sansa has five arrows in the middle while I only have four,” Jon replied slowly, “And that it was a fair, and well met match, one that I did not win,”

“Ha!” Daenerys laughed at Aegon’s expression of outrage, “Ser Brandon, did you hear that? Lady Sansa has won. I should like to speak with you soon about establishing a training schedule,” Daenerys called out, to the amusement of her brother, the King. The Queen wore a different expression all together. It was, dare she say it, strangely nostalgic and sad. She looked near wistful. She was unsure of what that expression could mean for the Queen had never looked at her with anything but displeasure and distain. Could her silly little arrow trick have impressed the cold hearted Queen?

“That was an impressive feat, niece,” Ser Brandon told her, “But try any antics like that during our training sessions, as the princess is calling them, and I will not be so lenient,” 

“Yes, ser” She replied, nodding.

“Well, that was certainly an interesting and entertaining way to spend time away from the politics of our beautiful city, but I am afraid that the Queen and I must return to our duties. Court is to be held in an hour’s time. Aegon, Lord Robb, you will both attend. Jaemon, you will be in charge of keeping the ladies entertained, and out of trouble,”

“Why does he get the enjoyable task?” Aegon questioned loudly.

“Because he did not fall asleep during the last court session,” King Rhaegar replied easily, “Complain one more time, Aegon, and you will not see anything but the council chambers or court for the next turn of the moon,” 

“If you would not mind, your Grace, I would be very interested in attending court at some point during my stay here,” She spoke up, looking to King Rhaegar.

“I would not mind in the least, Lady Sansa,’ King Rhaegar replied, “Today is to be quite slow though. All of the citizens are waiting for the Autumn fest to air their grievances at the moment. A later session would provide more of a sense of what court actually entails,” 

“Then I shall wait, your Grace. Thank you,” She replied graciously.

“You are welcome,” King Rhaegar told her before taking his Queen’s arm. Together the two left the courtyard. Her aunt did not spare her a second glance. Whatever glimmer of emotion she saw during the competition had been a fluke. The Queen clearly disliked her still.

“You can take my place at court, Sansa,” Robb told her after the adults disappeared. The guards had stepped away to give them their space. Ser Brandon was conversing with an excited silver haired princess.

“I think not. I hear that today’s court is to be quite dull,” She replied, quirking her lip in a smirk that had Robb scowling and Aegon laughing. Jon watched them, a slight smile on his face. Arianne watched as well, unsure of what to make of their interaction, “Do enjoy it though, brother. Perhaps a gift from your darling sister will ease your boredom,” She had finished the kerchief this morning after breaking her fast. Flowers were easy for her to do, second nature almost.

“A gift?” Robb questioned, blue eyes lighting up at the word.

“I made a promise to you,” She told him as she pulled the folded silken square from her belt. She had tucked it there earlier to give to him. Jon’s was still in her chambers. She would gift it to him at a later point, preferably when she got him alone in the Godswood again, “A newly embroidered kerchief,” She told him as he unfolded it.

“Ah, tis beautiful,” Robb told her with a laugh as he unfolded the square, revealing the pink flowery printed RS on the white silk. She had put a pink stitched wolf in between the two letters. It was the silliest piece she had ever done thus far. Apparently her brother thought so as well, “You did indeed promise me a flower and wolf piece, dear sister,” 

“I try to never break a promise, dear brother,” She laughed, “I do hope you’ll wear it with pride, Robb. I spent forever working on it,”

“I only asked yesterday so I will call you on that claim, sister,” Robb told her, “I shall wear it with as much pride as I can muster. The lads will all be jealous of my beautiful handkerchief,” 

‘Yes, this lad is quite jealous,” Aegon told her as he plucked the square from Robb’s hands, “Oh, how darling. The pink really brings out your eyes, my lady,”

“Thank you, princess,” Robb bit back, taking the kerchief from Aegon’s grip. He folded it carefully and slipped it into his pocket, “Sansa, sister, thank you for the embarrassing gift. It shall keep a smile on my face throughout court,”

“Not sure a smile is the best facial expression to sport while the commoners are begging for food or coin, or any other request that they have,’ Aegon told him, clapping his shoulder, “We best get going though. Father will not be pleased if we reek of the training yard for court,”

“Have a splendid time at court,” Daenerys had returned to their group. Ser Brandon had disappeared, leaving only one white cloak, Ser Dayne, to watch the royals, “I think we will enjoy some wine in the gardens, perhaps venture down to the bazaar for some fresh Dornish fruit, mayhap procure some training armor for our upcoming sessions with Ser Brandon,” Daenerys wiggled her brows. Aegon cursed.

‘Enjoy your wine and gossip with the ladies, Princess Jaemon,” Aegon told his brother, choosing to ignore his aunt’s blatant baiting.

“I shall indeed,” Jon replied, ignoring Aegon’s baiting.

“You all have such an interesting relationship. I do not tease my relatives as such,” Princess Arianne commented.

“Tis the only way to communicate with Aegon,’ Daenerys quipped.

“I think I have suffered enough torture today. I have important royal things to do as heir to the crown. I shall see you ladies at dinner,” Aegon huffed. Robb chuckled as he followed his friend out of the training yard, waving over his shoulder as they left.

“Such drama” Daenerys huffed with a grin, “Come, I was not kidding. We can have tea and a quick meal in the gardens before Ser Brandon accompanies us to the bazaar,” She told them, “Jon, since you lost, you will escort the winner,” She added.

“My lady,’ He offered her his arm, which she took. Daenerys linked her arm with Princess Arianne, and then they were off. The two princesses walked in front of them.

“You are a shit chaperone,” She heard Arianne whisper as they went.

“Such language for a princess,” Daenerys laughed, “Jon is far too honorable for such deviancy, isn’t that so?” She turned briefly, smiled when she saw them simply walking, “See? I told you. They are both far too good,”

“If we were in Dorne they would be pressed against a wall somewhere,” Arianne replied then laughed when they both flushed pink, “Too easy,” The Dornish beauty stated before turning back to her new friend, who was laughing as well.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, guys! :) Hope you like this next one, we're getting more into the storyline and the drama.

The bazaar was everything the bazaar’s back in the old realm were not. It was full of life, people bustling around shouting their wares while their children danced about their feet, chasing the other children of merchants. A thousand different aromas assaulted her senses, from the sweet cloying scent of freshly baked fruit pastries to the tantalizingly foreign scents of imported Essoi spices, candles, and perfumes. Everything around her was full of color and scent and noise. An olive-skinned man in turquoise blue silk was animatedly selling bolts of bright orange fabric to a noblewoman dressed in a high-necked gown, while a woman with skin the color of night pedaled a vial of perfume to a man dressed in Dornish attire. There seemed to be an abundance of pure, joyous life and she savored every sweet second of it. Jon must have caught her gaping at the scene, for he held back, allowing Daenerys and Arianne to walk ahead with Ser Dayne.

“It is amazing, is it not?” Jon questioned quietly. She realized that she could no longer see either of the princesses nor Ser Dayne in the crowd. A glance in her peripheral showed that Ser Brandon had held back with them, as well a few household guards. Some of the citizens were watching both her and Jon, though no one seemed to mind their appearance. There was no fruit thrown, nor insults shouted. They simply watched their crowd prince and his mysterious companion.

“It is so alive, so colorful” She agreed, “I apologize, I did not mean to hold us up,” 

“Not to worry, I remember the amazement the bazaar once brought me when I was younger. I’m afraid that Dany has dragged me here so often that I’ve become accustomed to it all,” Jon confided with a small smile, “Shall we continue?” 

“Yes, please”

Jon led her through the entrance of the bazaar, and into the thick of it all. Of course, the household guards made a path for them and kept the citizens of the Capital a few feet away at all times. Now that they were in the middle of the vast open spaced market, more people were staring at them.  Jon had been recognized as the crown prince though they did not seem to know who she was. She heard whispers of it, from a Lannister to a Tyrell, they were unsure. No one seemed to guess that she was a Stark though, at least none that she heard. Her coloring was too fair to be Northern she supposed. Hers eyes too blue, her hair too bright. Everyone expected the North to be shades of grey. 

“We should find my aunt or Arianne. Your father was adamant that you have a chaperone while in public” Jon whispered. She supposed it was true. They looked quite improper at the moment. Luckily Ser Brandon stepped up, taking her arm gently.

 “I can act as an escort for the moment, your Grace” He told his nephew, “Until we find Princess Daenerys at the least,”

“Thank you, Ser Brandon” Jon stepped away, letting her arm go. She missed the warmth of his simple tunic. He had freshened up while they had a snack in the gardens, washing the grime from him after an afternoon spent sparring. He had not changed into anything fancy, simply a white tunic and plain black breeches. He wore a black vest over the tunic, the dragon embossed into his sword belt the only indication of his birth. She looked far from noble in her own gown. She had changed out of the red gauzy one but Daenerys had insisted she keep it simple and light weight. The bazaar was unnaturally warm, so she was happy to have listened to the princess. Her lightweight blue gown was perfect even if it did remind her heavily of Margaery Tyrell.

They traversed the market in search of the two wayward princesses. They found both at a Myrish merchant stand, looking through bolts of fabrics in dizzying shades of bright colors. Arianne seemed quite fond of a vibrant orange shade while Daenerys was picking between two rouge hues.

“Ah, there you are,” Daenerys smiled, “Come, you must pick out a color for the autumn festival. Jon, darling, step away. We cannot have you knowing what color she’ll be in. It has to be fair,” She told him. Jon held up his hands in surrender and backed away slowly. Ser Dayne followed him while Brandon stayed with them.

“I think this one,” Arianne held up a swatch of turquoise fabric, pressing it to her cheek, “Look it matches your eyes,”

‘It’s too obvious” Daenerys plucked the swatch away from Arianne, “She needs something different, something that makes a certain curly haired prince nearly drop dead a the sight of her,” Daenerys hummed, looking through all the swatches. She grinned triumphantly and pulled out a swatch of fabric, “It’s perfect” She proclaimed.

And looking at the piece of silk clutched in the princess’s grip, it really was.

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After spending a bit of time at the bazaar, they wandered back to the Red Keep with the household guards carrying quite a few things from soaps to perfumes and new silk slippers. Arianne was the worst of them all. She bought more then her and Dany combined. It was nearing sunset by the time they reached the castle proper. Maids and manservants took the packages from the guards under Daenerys tutelage. She directed where each one would go.

 “Tomorrow we shall meet with the dressmakers, I will set it up,” She told them as they walked through the empty halls of the castle, “Jaemon, no peeking at colors,”

“I would not dare, Aunt” Jon replied solemnly.

“I trust you, but I must have words with Aegon. You should begin on your own costume for the festival. All of the good masks with be taken soon,” Dany shook her head ruefully, “We shall do the dressmaker first then practice in the yard with Ser Brandon. Lady Greta would skin us if we showed up smelling of sweat and dirt. Are you both amendable to that?”

“Of course, princess” She nodded. 

“If it means I can avoid talk of weddings and wield a sword, I am in” Arianne smiled, “I am parched though. Pray excuse me. I shall see you all for supper,” She curtsied to both Dany and Jon before smiling gently at her and taking her leave. One of the household guards escorted her.

“I too am in need of refreshment. Jaemon, be a dear and escort Lady Sansa to her chambers,”

 “Of course, Aunt”

“Good. Then I shall see you both later,” Dany smiled before taking off. Jon offered her his elbow, which she took. He led her towards her chambers, though she noticed he walked quite slow and took a few unneeded detours through various corridors. She went with it though, enjoying the comfortable silence.

“My aunt thinks she is so sly,” Jon finally spoke as they passed a tapestry she was nearly certain they had already passed, “But she is not so subtle in her actions,”

“No, subtle is not a word I would use for her,” She agreed, smiling at the thought of Dany’s blatant attempts to get them alone together, “It is sweet though, and I do not mind” And it was. She appreciated the princess’s actions and the approval that those actions signified.

“Neither do I” Jon assured her, smiling slightly like he was embarrassed, “I am thankful for her not so subtle set ups. I would never get a moment alone with you without her,”

“Not with Robb around,”

“Or my mother” He grimaced, “I do hope your dinner with her last night went well. Dany mentioned that she had invited all of you to her chambers,”

‘It went as well as was to be expected,” She shrugged a shoulder delicately, “We mostly spent the evening discussing the Princess Rhaenys’ upcoming nuptials,”

“Ah yes, the only topic allowed at familial dinners for the past couple dozen moons,” Jon chuckled, “Did she tell you about her dress code? She thinks that she can get father to force Viserys and I into the color orange simply because she is being wed,”

“I think orange would be very becoming on you, your Grace” She told him with a teasing smile.

“Well, if you say it is, I suppose I could wear it,” Jon replied facetiously, “I do find that most recently I have become far more tolerant of reds and oranges,” He told her.

“Oh, and why is that, your Grace?” She questioned, though she had caught his meaning for when he spoke he stared quite deliberately at her hair.

“Personal reasons, my lady” He told her seriously before cracking and smiling at her, “We have reached your chambers,” He told her. Indeed, they had. She had not even noticed.

“I admit that I did not realize we had come to this point. I have never walked to these chambers in such an elaborate path,” She teased him. He was caught.

“I may have deliberately lengthened our path here in an effort to spend more time with you, my lady. Shall you find fault with that?”

“No, I do not believe I shall” She retorted, “Thank you for your lengthy escort, Prince Jon. I shall see you at supper, yes?”

“Yes,” He nodded, “Lady Sansa?” He called just as she was about to slip into her chambers. She paused and turned to him. He had something behind his back. She hadn’t noticed anything earlier. He must have hidden it in his pocket or belt, “Did you think I forgot?” He questioned. It was a flower then. She had noticed that she hadn’t received one today.

“I hoped not,” She answered. Her response satisfied him, for he smiled a heartbreakingly beautiful grin, producing the flower in a flourish complete with a jaunty little bow. She laughed as she took the bright pink bloom, marveling at the color and shape. It was mostly pink but the inside ring was orange. It was large, flopping over with its weight, “Oh,” She gaped at it.

“Tis from the Summer Isles, a hibiscus” He told her. 

“It is marvelous” She told him honestly, “I’m not sure how you will outdo yourself tomorrow,”

“Ah, how humble of you to assume I will present you with another on the morrow” Jon teased, “Perhaps I won’t,”

“I would be quite sad” She replied, batting her lashes like she was taught ages ago, “But then again, I suppose my lessons with Ser Brandon will act to soothe my disappointed self,” Watching Jon’s face react to her words caused laughter to bloom in her chest. He was so surprised by her teasing.

 “Oh” He grasped at his chest dramatically, “Lady Sansa, your words cut deeper then any sword,” He told her, “I shall have to leave you now lest I suffer any further at your steel tongue,”

 “Until supper then, Jon”

“Until supper, Sansa” He took her hand, the one still holding the flower, and pressed a quick kiss to the soft skin. He winked before leaving her there, aching for more then just a chaste kiss on her hand.

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Dressed and ready for supper, she waited until the maid called upon her, notifying her that it was time to adjourn to the dining hall. It was to be a small supper, just the younger inhabitants of the castle. Apparently the King and Queen supped alone twice a sennight, leaving the rest to themselves. Dany insisted that they all eat together.

Robb met her in the corridor, dressed in the same clothing he had probably worn to court. He looked a bit rumpled and out of sorts. There was crusted in the corner of his eye, a tell tale sign that he had just awoken from a nap.

‘Overslept, brother?” She questioned as she tucked her hand into his elbow.

“Not at all, sister” He replied, though he removed the handkerchief she had presented him with earlier and wiped away the crust, “Better?”

‘Much, though your tunic is wrinkled,”

“I doubt anyone at this supper will care, dear” He patronized her, “You certainly out did yourself. What is that thing in your hair?” 

“A flower, brother” She told him, “You must really learn these things if you ever wish to win over a lady. Though I pity the girl already” She had pinned half of her hair up in curls, adding the hibiscus to the side. It went splendidly with the pale pink dinner gown she wore. 

“It is a strange looking bloom” Robb retorted, poking at it. She felt it slip a fraction in the pin. She swatted away his hand.

“Do not touch it, Robb”

“I am not touching it” He grinned. She elbowed him with the arm tucked against his. He did not retaliate, only laughing at her little fit. His laughter faded when they heard the telltale sound of feet against the marble flooring. They both paused, waiting for whoever it was to appear. A moment later, a tall, lithe figure rounded the corner.

She recognized him immediately, her blood going cold at the mere sight of him. His hair was slicked back, the dark color fading to grey on the sides just as it was in the previous realm. His clothing was impeccable of course, rich dark green silks and velvet trim, expertly tailored breeches and finely shined shoes. His goatee was fuller, and more pointed. He smiled when he noticed them, white teeth flashing in the dimly lit corridor.

“My, my. I would say I was hallucinating the good old days back in Riverrun with dear Edmure and Cat, but that would not be possible,” He trailed, “A more fitting explanation of course would be that you two are the Stark’s visiting from the North, yes?” He questioned. Robb seemed a little wary of his interesting opening, but ever the future lord, Robb stepped forward.

“I am Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell,” Robb answered evenly, sounding every bit the lord he was destined to be, “While you may know our family, I am afraid that I do not know you, my lord

“Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin” He introduced himself.

“Of course, Lord Baelish. Our mother speaks fondly of you,” Robb replied diplomatically though she was not sure he actually knew who Petyr was. She had no recollection of her mother mentioning him, though it was entirely possible that she might have.

“I am afraid I have never heard our mother speak in any way of you, Lord Baelish” She schooled her features as she spoke, appearing genuine and naïve in her words, “Are you from the Riverlands? I do not recall House Baelish from our lessons,” She played dumb, like Lollys. With just enough sincerity though, her words were taken as harmless instead of insulting, which of course was her real aim. She saw the vein tick in Petyr’s neck.

“I was a ward of Lord Hoster, my lady. I am originally from the Vale. The Tully children and I were great friends,”

“Allow me to properly introduce you, my lord” Robb spoke before she could again, clearly irate with her lack of manners, “This is my younger sister” He emphasized the younger part, as if to play her rudeness off on her age, “Lady Sansa Stark”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Sansa,”

“I must apologize, my lord. We are late for supper with the princes and princesses. I recall King Rhaegar mentioning at the small council meeting that you were abroad the past few moons in Braavos at the Iron Bank. I do look forward to hearing about it tomorrow," 

“Ah, yes. I heard rumors that you were auditing the roles of lords within the castle.  I assure you my travels have been quite dull, but I will try to put an exciting spin on it for tomorrow’s meeting,” Lord Baelish told him. She could see why people fell for Petyr’s charm. He was quite skilled with words, and the tones and motions he used conveyed such honesty and gentility that one could not help but fall for his words. She was above it now though. She could see the minute mechanical motion to his gestures, here the slight hitch of insincerity to his words, “Word of advice though, young Lord Robb, do try to look a bit less disheveled. Appearances are everything,”

“A worthy point, my lord” Robb nodded.

“Lady Sansa, it was lovely to meet you, do enjoy your supper,” Lord Baelish bowed his head.

“Lord Baelish” She curtsied stiffly.

Baelish continued on his path while Robb dragged her to the dining hall. After several feet in which Robb was trying to gauge if Baelish could still hear them, he finally burst.

“What in the devil was that, Sansa?” He demanded, looking at her wildly, “Do you know how rude you were to him? Did you forget all those manners you used to be so serious about?” He questioned.

“I do not know what you’re talking about, Robb” She retorted, continuing on her journey to the dining hall without his escort. He followed behind her.

“You were rude," 

‘I was not” 

“You told him mother never talked about him,”

‘Well she hasn’t”

“Yes well, the polite proper thing to do was lie” Robb huffed, “And then you insulted his House,”

“I did not, I do not know where House Baelish is stationed, nor had I ever heard of it,”

“Again, etiquette dictates that you do not just point it out to them,” Robb sounded as if he were trying to explain something simple to little Rickon, or even Arya. He was not used to her not grasping such simple concepts. It would be amusing if she hadn’t felt so ill at the thought of having seen Petyr again. He was still in the capital, still the Master of Coin. She would have to do some digging to find out if he still owned all the brothels in the city. That would take some planning. It wasn’t as if she could be seen scoping out brothels. Perhaps during the festival, when she had a mask. Yes, that would be perfect.

“Sansa, are you even listening to me?”

“No, I am not. You are being far too dense. I did nothing wrong,” She shook her head, “Forget this nonsense. I do not wish to fight in front of others,” She stepped away from him, continuing her path to the hall on her own, without his escort. She heard him huff loudly before the stomping of his feet was heard behind her. He snagged her elbow just before they hit the corridor leading to into the dining hall, a lordly smile on his face. Like her, Robb played a part well. You could barely tell that he was angry with her a mere second ago.

They were stopped by a household guard however, who informed them that they were dining elsewhere for the night. Apparently one of the princesses had decided to switch the locale, though the guard did not say which one it was. They were led outside and towards the gardens. It was a beautiful night out. The sun was just starting to set, lighting up the sky in shades of orange, purple, and pink.  There was a gentle breeze from the bay. Whichever princess hatched this idea was brilliant indeed. 

The royals were seated around a circular table in the private gardens, already sipping from their goblets of wine. Laughter rang out from whatever joke Aegon had just told. Arianne was missing but Rhaenys was there for a change. She hadn’t seen the elder princess as much as she did the others.

“Ah, there you are” Daenerys noticed them first, smiling as they approached. Aegon and Jon both stood, as etiquette dictated. She met their bows with a curtesy, “Enough manners. Sit, sit,” The silver haired princess clapped her hands together impatiently.

“Sister” Robb side stepped Jon, blocking him from pulling out her chair for her. Robb grinned at the two of them, teasing. Aegon barely managed to stifle his laughter while Jon quickly schooled his face into something a tad less disappointed.

“Thank you, brother” She rolled her eyes as she sat, letting him push her chair back in. The boys sat after that. Robb was on her left, Jon on her right. Across from her, Daenerys was already pouring wine into her empty goblet, not bothering to wait for a servant to do it for her. It was a sweet Arbor gold, warm on her tongue and easy to swallow. 

It was an entertaining affair. They sipped heavily on their wines, picking at the finger foods that the servants slowly presented. There was no formal meal, but by the time the little pastries were being placed upon the table, she was near stuffed. But she espied a few dainty yellow powdered treats, and she had room once more.

Since Robb was no longer paying attention to her, plying attention on Daenerys instead, she took her opportunity to tease Jon, who was in debating a little drunkenly with his brother. Aegon was glassy eyed as well. Rhaenys and Arianne, the latter of which had arrived in the middle of their little party, were gushing over the details of the wedding yet again. She was left a bit lonesome, and the idea of teasing Jon seemed more appealing every second she was left alone.

With deliberate movements, she reached across him for a lemon pastry, ignoring the perfectly delicious looking ones that were set before her. If she accidentally brushed against the warmth of his chest, it was pure chance. Jon, who was looking at Aegon across the table, stopped mid-sentence. She was by no means being inappropriate. Her bosom was displayed in a perfectly proper manner, only a tiny bit of flesh was displayed. Jon of the old realm would have called her a tease. Had she been wearing one of the gauzy Essoi gowns, it would have been quite improper. 

“Allow me, Lady Sansa” He offered politely, passing her the dish that she had. His gaze dipped down to her bosom briefly, though his eyes shot up surprisingly fast once he realized what he had done. 

“Thank you, your Grace” She murmured as she took the proffered plate, making sure to trail a hand down his arm as she thanked him. His tunic covered the thick, corded muscles but the heat of his skin radiated through the fabric.

“You are quite welcome” He nodded.

“Do you know what the best part of these things are?” She questioned as she set one of the gorgeous little cakes down on her gilded plate. He nodded in response to her question. With practiced ease, she swiped her forefinger through the cream on the top, plopping it into her mouth in a seductive move that Margaery Tyrell would have been proud of. She sucked it clean slowly, hollowing out her cheeks as she met his gaze by looking up through her lashes. The tips of his ears were pink as he stared transfixed, “The cream” She replied huskily as removed her finger with a wet sound. Past realm Sansa would have thought her actions obscene.

Instead of furthering engaging him, she turned to her dessert, taking a proper, dainty bite with her dessert fork. She even engaged Robb in a conversation. She could feel his gaze on her though throughout the rest of the evening.

When Daenerys begged an escort in the form of Robb, she was near ready to profess her love for the silver haired girl. Without having a proper reason to decline, Robb gallantly acquiesced. Those two left first, Robb politely requesting that one of them escort her back to her room in his absence. Arianne, not Aegon or Jon, assured him that she would get back safely. A dual effort then, she thought as Dany winked at Arianne.

Her thoughts were confirmed when ten minutes later, Rhaenys demanded that Aegon escort her and Arianne back to Arianne’s chambers so that they might have a sleepover, like old times. With a joke about having a sleepover with Arianne as well, Aegon agreed. Unlike his Aunt, Aegon was not even trying for subtlety. 

“I am sure you can manage to escort Lady Sansa back to her chambers, right brother?” Aegon questioned, a grin lining his face. She enjoyed seeing how teasing and lighthearted the brothers appeared to be. She had been concerned back in the Vale, but it had become obvious that like all older brothers, Aegon loved to tease his younger brother in good fun. 

“Of course, brother” Jon replied, looking sternly at Aegon.

“Good, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Aegon replied, winking. Rhaenys grabbed him before he could say anything further, or before Jon could reply.

Instead of standing, Jon relaxed into his chair, bringing his goblet to his mouth as he took another sip of his ale. The boys had been quite adamant against drinking something so girly as Arbor gold. Following his lead, she leaned back as well, taking another sip of her wine. She had drunk enough to warm her blood, and she was starting to feel relaxed in a way she knew meant she had drunk too much.

She hadn’t had much experience with alcohols in the past realm, but once on their journey North they had unearthed several questionable bottles of amber-colored liquor. One bottle was between her, Jon, and Satin. This was before his horrible death. The willowy little man had excused himself after only a few gulps, but she and Jon had finished off the bottle. She could remember the flush on his cheeks, the glassy-eyed smile he gave her as she enticed him into dancing with her. They had stumbled and laughed, one of the few true moments of pure freedom she could remember having before they reached the Northern boundary lines. 

“Lady Sansa?” Jon questioned, leaning close to her.

‘Mhmm?” She must have been off in her own memories.

“I asked if you were feeling alright” He stated, looking bemused.

“Wonderful” She replied as she took another sip, “I was fondly recalling our last little get together in the Godswood with the decanter of wine” She lied effortlessly. It was a good time though. She enjoyed it.

“Aegon and I received an earful from my mother when she discovered what we had been up to. She seemed to think we were ruining our reputations,” Jon smirked.

‘Robb’s presence would no doubt compromise your spotless reputation” She joked. He laughed, agreeing with her, “Would you take a turn about the garden with me, Jon? I wish to see it all in the moonlight,” She begged of him, turning out her hand for him to grasp. 

“It would be my pleasure, Sansa” He replied as he took her hand. Instead of tucking it into his elbow, he simply laced their fingers together. They took their filled goblets with them, leaning slightly upon each other as they followed the path to the roses. She was right about the moonlight and the gardens. It made everything look ethereal and serene. The castle was quiet, though she knew dozens of guards lurked around them, protecting them silently. They reached the winter roses, where a stone bench sat. That had been her ultimate goal. The hedges and the trees were tall and private in this section of the garden. They could speak and act freely, which had been her plan. She set her goblet down on the bench, and urged him to do the same.

“Dance with me,” She demanded as she tugged him away from the bench, twirling under his arm. He was stiff for a moment but then smiled.

“Was that a request or a demand, my lady?” He teased as he swung her again, this time twirling her into his chest instead of away from him. She was laughing as she collided with his firm chest, her free hand going to his bicep to steady herself. She smiled as she looked up at him, seeing such emotion in his dark eyes. Her laughter faded as she saw the desire he had, the dilation of his pupils, the seriousness of his gaze. His free hand curled around her waist, holding her close. Their entwined hands broke apart as he reached to brush a curl back behind her ear, his hand trailing down her cheek, “Were you teasing me on purpose earlier, Sansa?” He questioned quietly, hand still cupping her cheek.

“And if I was, Jon?” She questioned, slightly breathless at the anticipation. He was so close, his breath warm against her skin, his body pressed against hers. 

“May I kiss you?” He questioned softly. His gray eyes held trepidation now. He was nervous, afraid of being rejected. 

“Yes,” She nodded. He smiled again, fear gone from his gray eyes, as he leaned into her. Like their first kiss in this realm, it was soft and gentle, tentative almost. She leaned into it, reaching up to run her fingers through his dark curls. They were soft as sin beneath her hand. Just as it was in the previous realm, Jon reacted to the touch. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. This realm and the old, Jon knew how to use those lips. She let him lead. It wasn’t like she was supposed to have any experience with this sort of thing in this new realm.

He was the one that pulled away, both of them breathless and panting.

“That was” He paused, unsure of what to say. He was adorably nervous it seemed.

“Perfect” She told him, smiling as she leaned in to kiss him chastely. His lips chased hers back. It didn’t go further than that, but it was far enough for the night. At this point she thought she might be able to finagle a kiss every night as long as they were alone together.

He walked her back to her chambers then, taking the elaborate route once more. When they reached her doors, he kissed her again, wishing her a good night. The guard at her door looked away with a grin on his face though she knew he would keep his silence. She went to bed with swollen lips and the entire problem that was Petyr Baelish and his appearance completely slipped from her mind.


	10. Chapter 10

The only thing that got her through the tedious process of being measured was the thought of the training session scheduled for after their fitting. The dressmaker was not too keen on her ideas either though she made it clear that she expected nothing less then what she told her. The woman wanted her in something Southern and gauzy, but she knew what she wanted. She sketched it out, and when Daenerys saw it, she agreed wholeheartedly. It would tricky to complete in time for the festival, but the dressmaker had dozens of assistants. The princess assured her that it would be finished in time. 

She was gifted breeches and a tunic by Daenerys. She assumed they belonged to the princess because they were quite short in the legs and arms. She rolled the arms up to her elbow though and put high socks on under her boots. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. She plaited her hair back tightly then rolled it so it wouldn’t accidently be chopped off. 

Instead of summoning them to the training yard, Ser Brandon decided to hold their lesson in one of the empty court chambers in the Keep. The ceiling was high and the room was spacious and empty, so it would be perfect to practice. It was also secluded. 

They arrived and noticed that two guards stood watch at the door. No one was allowed to see their sparring lesson it seemed. They got through easily enough, and found Ser Brandon waiting for them in the middle of the room. There were a few props scattered around him, from wooden swords to knives to something that looked like a mace. 

“Pick up a wooden sword, ladies” Brandon called, “And attempt to get into position,” They all picked up a play sword, and adjusted their stances. Brandon tutted as he walked around them, “Not as bad as I imagined” He hummed, correcting their stances, though they were minute changes. He tucked her elbow, and pushed back on her shoulders. 

He went through simple moves, having them swing out at the air over and over again until he felt that they were decent enough. He then stood in front of them, and had them attempt to strike him, though he easily blocked each and every move they threw at him. After that, he went into defensive moves. He claimed they were the only moves that they should ever have to use, that they simply had to defend themselves until a guard arrived. He taught them the moves, and then had them practice with each other, blocking and parrying hits. It was stilted and slow going. 

Then Daenerys made a smart ass remark and Brandon had her standing in the middle of the chamber while he grabbed the wooden sword from Arianne. He was almost teasing her as he beat back each and every attempt she made. She didn’t give up though, she kept trying until eventually Brandon ended it by whacking her behind the knee, sending her to the ground with a pout. 

“Me next” Arianne demanded, grabbing Daenerys’ wooden sword, and getting into position. Brandon sighed but obliged her. It was the same thing. Arianne was a bit quicker on her feet then Daenerys had been but Brandon was a white cloak. He used the same move and knocked Arianne on her bottom.

“Sansa?” Brandon questioned, looking at her.

“Uncle” She grinned. She had no hope of beating him with strength of course, but she could try to out whit him. It wasn’t like he was on high alert. They were just sparring and she was a tiny little thing. She could get lucky if she feigned at the right moment.  
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It was snowing lightly as Jon taught her the basics of swordplay. Jon had not wished for her to learn, at least not by him. He hated the idea of hurting her but after Grenn had given her the first lesson, and half a dozen bruises, Jon had stepped in. Grenn still insisted on coaching her when she and Jon sparred though. He claimed it was because he knew Jon’s fighting style. 

“You can’t beat him, lady” Grenn yelled her as they danced around each other, trying to find a spot to strike. This had been going on for nearly a full moon now. She thought she was getting better but Jon kept easily knocking her down, “He’s bigger and stronger then you,” 

“Not helping, Grenn” She huffed, breathless from practice. Jon was watching her, calculating her moves before she even knew them. 

“Think, Lady. You cannot beat him with strength alone. Use what you have” Grenn encouraged as Jon swung out again. Instead of blocking and wasting her energy, she jumped out of the way. She was quicker then him, she knew that. Jon always told her it was better to conserve energy, to wear your enemy down before striking. This was how he did it. Beyond that his only other advice was to use the pointy end. She thought of Petyr and what he had taught her. She thought of Cersei even, and the lessons she had preached.

She didn’t raise her sword to block his next hit. She twisted but not fast enough. The blade sliced her leathers, and she yelped as she went down.

“Sansa!” Jon yelled, letting down his guard. She swung her leg out and knocked him down into the snow. He swore in surprise. She rolled quickly, pressed the pointy end of her sword into his exposed neck as she straddled his waist. She ignored Grenn’s raucous laughter behind her. 

“Yield” She grinned.

“Well done, Sans” He smiled and then he flipped her over using just his thighs, knocking the sword from her grip. His knife was to her neck, but hers was to his gut. They knew each other well. 

“Well met” She murmured from beneath him. 

“And kiss” Grenn cajoled from the crowd that had been watching them. Jon’s ears flushed and he got off of her. He hauled her up next, pressing a kiss to her cheek instead.  
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She blocked another soft blow from Ser Brandon. He was using like a tenth of his strength. He was simply teasing her, keeping her moving and blocking. He had tapped her half a dozen times, Dany was keeping count.  
She started hitting back, though ineffectively. He just kept swatting her away like a fly. She kept at it though. Even as her muscles ached in protest she kept going. She swung up and down, far and wide just trying to keep him on her. He made no move to simply take the blow and hit her back someplace else like she knew he could. He focused on blocking and striking, following his lesson. 

“Good, Sansa’ He encouraged her, “You’re deceptively strong. Use that to your advantage. Keep at it,” He told her as they moved across the floor. She spun and aimed low when she had been aiming high. Brandon easily blocked her though. He went back to defense then, swinging out at her. She spun out of his reach, ducking the blow. She made sure to keep up the fast pace. Her plan would work far better if he actually put a bit of power into his blows. They were feather soft. She increased her pace, causing him to do the same. At a faster pace, he put more power into his swings automatically. The vibration of the wood against her arm was painful but she kept going.

And then she deliberately missed a block. It hurt like a heathen when the wooden sword smashed into her ribs. She fell to the ground easily, gasping a bit louder then she would have. She heard the girls call out and heard her uncle swear. 

“Are you alright, Sansa?” He was kneeling before her. She nodded, putting on a mask of pain and pity. Her uncle sighed and offered his hand to help her sit up, urging her to do so slowly. She nodded as he gently helped her. 

She used his own body as leverage to twist his arm behind his back as she managed to get behind her. Her free arm held one of the throwing knives against his neck. She had grabbed it when she went down, hiding it against her forearm. Her knee pushed into his back, her foot stabbed into the pressure point of his leg. Jon had taught her the weak points on a man’s body. 

“Yield” She demanded. Of course, he was Kingsguard and could easily have thrown her off of his back, but he held up his free arm in defeat.

“I yield” He conceded. She dropped the arm she was twisting behind him and smirked as he pulled himself up, “That was sneaky, my lady”

“A lady must rely on things other then strength and speed, ser” She replied, twirling the knife around her finger. It was a throwing knife. Gilly had taught her how to use them back in the old realm, “I’ve no hope of beating you without some sort of guile. I will not outmatch you in strength,”

“A sneaky Stark, you must have inherited that from your mother’s side,” Brandon replied, “Do not attempt it again, unless you are sparring with Aegon” Ser Brandon told her, a warning and a joke all rolled into one. She grinned and nodded, “Since Lady Sansa has beaten me with a knife, I think it best we move onto those. They are easy to conceal and easier to wield as a delicate, weak lady,” He looked to her. 

He let them test out the feeling of the knives in their grip as he set up targets. They were quite similar to the ones from yesterday in the yard. 

“That was very sly, my friend” Daenerys commented as she twirled a throwing knife around her finger, “I only wish I had thought of it first,”

“One learns to use wit over strength when having to deal with Arya” She commented, “My sister taught me well,” 

“I hope you’ve horrible aim” Arianna told her with a wiry smirk, “Because if not, you’ve put us both to shame,” 

‘I could best you with an arakh,” Daenerys replied, shaking her head, “And you could probably kick our bottoms with a spear, Arianne” 

“I should have thought to use my womanly charms though, I’m Dornish” Arianne pouted, “Go on, give it a go,” She gestured to the target. 

She used the knife still in her hand and threw it at the target, frowning slightly when it hit the second ring, and not the dead center. She grabbed another knife from the stack and aimed again. This time the knife hit the middle. Arianne swore while Daenerys clapped. 

“Me next” Daenerys proclaimed as she stepped forward. What the petit, silver-haired princess lacked in precision, she made up for in strength. She threw the knife with such force that it went through the canvas of the third ring, just a few inches from her first knife. 

“Precision, princess” Ser Brandon called, “Less force, more precision,”

Daenerys sighed but took several calming breaths. She stepped forward again with a new knife and threw it. It landed on the border of the middle target and the second ring. Daenerys seemed pleased with it though. 

Arianne was skilled with the knives as well. Ser Brandon was much impressed with their handwork. Arianne even threw the spear, hitting the target dead center as well. She and Daenerys shied away from the spear. She had never tried one of those before, there were no spears in the North. 

“Teach us hand to hand, Ser Brandon” Daenerys begged of him, “Just the basics. Then we can practice with each other this week,” Ser Brandon had told them that their lessons would be every sennight, something irked Daenerys. The King had agreed though, saying that they could not monopolize a kings guard every day of the week. 

“Just the basics of self defense, not offense. You should not be fighting hand to hand as princesses and ladies” Ser Brandon sighed, “Princess Daenerys, step forward,” He beckoned her to step closer to him. The girl grinned as she did so, “Now, because you are ladies of high birth, there is always the chance someone might try to harm you. These are techniques you can use in that instance, and that instance only, not that it will ever occur. But if all hell breaks loose in the kingdom and you’re being kidnapped by assailants, the goal is to get away then run. I suggest you practice running more then these movements. Nothing is more valuable then speed, and there is no shame in running,” He advised them, “And we are not telling anyone that I taught you these,” He added as an after thought.

“Yes, ser” They all nodded.

“Good” He grabbed Daenerys by the arm and started pulling her away from the two girls, “I’m kidnapping you, try to escape,” 

Daenerys put up a hell of a fight. She punched and kicked and screamed trying to get loose. She was surprised no one from the guard interrupted, wondering what the hell was causing all the noise. Despite her vigor though, Ser Brandon was still stronger. It took the silver haired princess several minutes to break free, landing a lucky elbow to Brandon’s neck shortly after delivering a close blow to his groin. Daenerys danced away with a huge grin on her face.

“Now you run” Brandon coughed, “Run, always run” He told them. Daenerys nodded and sprinted towards the other side of the chamber. She raced back a second later, panting, “Keep running” Brandon told her, “Laps. You next, Princess Arianne. Let’s see what Dornish life has taught you. Do not stop running until Princess Arianne has freed herself,” He added, looking to Dany.

“Best be quick, Arianne. Or I’ll kick your bottom myself” She huffed as she started another lap. 

Arianne was quicker then Daenerys had been. She seemed so fluid as she danced out of Brandon’s grip, so flexible and determined. She had his arm twisted after a few short minutes, and then kicked him in the back of the knee, knocking him down. She grinned triumphantly as Daenerys collapsed on the crown breathing hard.

“Run, princess. Run until Lady Sansa has freed herself,” He told the Dornish girl as he made to grab her. She tried to get away before he even had her, but eventually he managed to grab her wrist. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. He pulled her closer, his hand easily encircling her arm. He was too strong for her to escape. She twisted and aimed her knee for his crotch, but blocked that shot, “That’s where you got for first, the sensitive areas. Anything fleshy and exposed. Stomach and groin, ladies. Try something else” He was dragging her around the room now. She kicked at his legs, which he deflected, “A kick to the kneecap will hurt like hells, good. Keep trying” 

“You know all the moves” She huffed, tired of being drug about. It had already been longer then Daenerys and Arianne combined. She was utterly failing at this. 

“It is likely your assailant will as well” Brandon huffed, “Come now, niece, are you a fierce direwolf or a floppy fish?” He teased. She huffed and began to try in earnest, pretending that she really was being kidnapped. It brought back terrifying memories of that time in the landing when Sandor had saved her. She hadn’t been able to fight back then. She wanted to be able to fight back now but Ser Brandon had an iron grip. She twisted and jerked in his arms, but his hands never went slack. She scratched his bare arms and kicked his calves, but Ser Brandon was not letting her go. She even got a knee to his gut, but that just caused him to cough, “By this point I’ve already dragged you away from the crowds. I’m succeeding in kidnapping you, Sansa. Fight back,” She was getting angry and her blood was rushing. There was a small coil of fear in her stomach though realistically she knew this was all just for practice. Her uncle wasn’t really kidnapping her, “Fight, Sansa” He urged again. 

“I am’ She grumbled as he held her against his body, forearm digging into her neck. From his vantage point he could easily strangle her. His arm was already cutting off some of her air, causing her to be dizzy.

“At this point you should give up. I’ve succeeded in kidnapping you, Sansa. You are now far from the guards that could save you,” He told her smugly, like he had won. It sounded like Robb’s smug declaration when he bested her in riding or something. It made her angry. So she twisted an inch, which was really all that he allowed her, and bit harshly into the soft flesh of his arm. He cursed and let her go, “Hells, girl, do you have teeth or wolf fangs?” He grumbled as he held his bleeding arm. She could taste the copper on her tongue. 

“And now I run” She stated, running before he could berate her for actually biting him. 

“I’m going to end up crippled from teaching you three” Brandon muttered as he ripped his tunic and applied it to his forearm, “That is it for training. Practice the moves with the wooden swords at your leisure. No hand to hand by yourselves” Brandon warned, “And Princess Daenerys, return that throwing knife to the pile. I saw you nick it,” Daenerys sighed as she tossed the little knife back into the mix. 

“I will get away with it one day” She promised, “Come ladies, let us leave Ser Brandon to his inventory,” 

They followed the her out of the room, thanking Ser Brandon as they went. It was past midday now. The sun was starting its descent in the sky. Dinner would be in a few hours though and they had missed lunch. 

‘I need a bath” Arianne muttered as they walked, “I am positively disgusting” 

“You do smell rather ripe” Daenerys laughed, “Nothing like a good training session to build up a sweat,” 

Now that she thought of it, she was covered in sweat as well. Her tunic and breeches clung to her and she could feel the tightness on her skin as the perspiration dried in the cool breeze of the upper corridors. Her bun had started to fall causing little tendrils of hair to stick to the back of her neck. Her muscles protested with nearly every step she took.

“I second the bath” She murmured.

“You need the bath, wolf” Daenerys laughed, “You’ve got blood on your chin,” 

“Ah, there they are” Came the booming voice of Prince Aegon from somewhere behind them. They all turned to find the three boys making their way to them. All were dressed for the small council, and based on the time, they had just left. Robb looked like he was ready to fall asleep, though Aegon looked no better, “Why you three look smashing,” Aegon complimented them.

“Are you bleeding, Lady Sansa?” Jon questioned, voice laced with concern. His grey eyes were piercing as she met his gaze. Before she answered though, Daenerys did.

“No, it is not her blood” Daenerys replied, grinning, “Training was a complete success, boys. You should be very wary of us,”

“Oh, we always are,” Robb replied, “Here, since I know Jaemon has already lost one handkerchief to you, sister” He passed her the kerchief she had gifted him with the other day. She was loathe to ruin it but she didn’t like the idea of having blood on her chin either. She wasn’t actually a wolf. 

“Thank you, brother” She replied as she took it, wiping her chin. It wasn’t a ton of blood. She could probably get the stain out of the kerchief later, “How was your council meeting today?” She questioned lightly.

“Boring as ever,” Aegon answered.

‘But Lord Buckwell did invite us to hunt at Antlers with him and his sons. King Rhaegar thought it would be a good idea. We leave on the morrow for after the festival is the wedding, and no better time existed,” Robb told her, “Guess what we are to hunt” He requested, looking between the three girls expectantly. 

“Stags,” She answered, “Hence the name, Antlers. There is an abundance of stags to be hunted in that area” 

“Right you are” Robb grinned, “Perhaps I will send Arya a gift of antlers for her new sigil,”

“More likely the stag will get a piece of you on his antlers,” She quipped, “Do be careful, I shall not be happy if I have to write to mother and father about your death at the hand of an oversized buck,” 

“I’ve hunted deer before, sister” Robb pouted.

“Yes but no doubt you will try to impress Lord Buckwell and his sons to earn favor in the eyes of his daughter, whom I hear is quite attractive,”

“And that is why we were invited, Lady Sansa. Three eligible men of high standing, and poor Lord Buckwell with nine daughters to marry off,”

“Five, he has five daughters” Jon corrected.

“Might as well be nine,” Aegon shrugged, “Of course, Lord Buckwell doesn’t know that little Jaemon is courting another. Do not fret, Lady Sansa, I shall ensure his eyes do not stray to little Lady Luella,”

“All of your eyes should be on the weapons in your hands and the prey in the field, lest you injure yourself. Which guard is escorting you?” Daenerys questioned seriously.

“Majority of them. Father is to come as well. I think it is mostly to get out of Rhaenys wedding wrath” Aegon answered, “Ser Brandon and Ser Ronnet will stay in the castle, I believe. The rest travel with us,”

“And Viserys?” Daenerys questioned. She had not even thought of the lanky, greasy prince since her arrival. He had not been seen. 

“He is to come as well,” Aegon muttered, looking glum at the thought, “We must get going though. Father wished to speak with us and the guards to go over the entire travel itinerary. We only sought you out to inform you and so that little Jaemon could give Lady Sansa a flower he picked all by himself,” 

“Shove off, Egg” Jon elbowed his brother while Aegon and Robb snickered, “Lady Sansa” He presented her with another pretty pink flower, a few shades lighter then the fuchsia one she had received yesterday.

“Tis beautiful” She replied as she took it from him, “What is it called?”

“Peony” Jon replied, “It comes from the Stormlands,” 

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” She told him, and it was. It was delicate looking, and the prettiest shade of pink she had ever seen. She did not dare to put it in her hair right now. She was too sweaty and smelly, she would surely ruin it, “Please, do not make yourselves any later for your meeting with the King on our account. I must excuse myself anyways. It is quite improper to be standing in front of you in such a state, I must go freshen up and attend to my prayers. Pray excuse me,” 

She spoke to Jon, hoping that he understood what she was telling him. She curtsied when they excused her, and left them in the hallway. She was confident that she had the right lay of the place and could get herself back to her chambers without problem. 

Once in her private chambers, she called for water so that she might return to being a proper lady. While her tub was filled, her maid helped her out of the breeches and tunic, promising to have them laundered in time for their next training session. Naked, and still waiting for the tub to be finished, she placed the peony in with the other flowers she had accumulated. It made a queer bouquet but she loved it none the less. There had been no flowers to be given in the last realm. Winter had killed even the hardiest of blooms. 

“My lady, your bath is finished” The maid told her, interrupting her thoughts. 

She sunk into the blissfully warm water, letting the heat relax her tense muscles. It felt heavenly to give in. Liv picked up a little box of something she had never seen. When she opened the lid, a pleasant but unfamiliar scent hit her nostrils.

“What is it?” She questioned as Liv scooped out something coral that appeared to be salt.

“Tis an Asshai bath salt, my lady. It softens the skin, and it smells quite heavenly” Liv replied, showing her that it did indeed appear to be a coral colored salt, “Tis made from the salt and ashes from the Asshai land,”

“Where did it come from?”

“One of the valets delivered it this morning, my lady. I would assume that it was from Prince Jaemon though. Satin is generally his valet,” 

“Very well” She nodded, closing her eyes again. Liv tossed it into the bath, and then began with her hair. She washed it in a new blend of spices and flowers. It was a gentle fragrance though, not quite as overwhelming as the Essoi products she had used the first day. Once rinsed clean, she slathered it in oil, coiling it tightly on top of her head before wrapping it in a cotton sheet of fabric. 

She scrubbed the rest of her then, paying particular attention to the nails that she had most certainly near destroyed in training today. Liv did not comment though. A few quite huffs and puffs were the only indication that something was amiss. With her body now cleaned, Liv helped her up and wrapped her in a towel, leading her towards the hearth, which held a roaring fire. With practiced ease and efficiency, Liv rubbed oils into her pale skin, leaving her glistening and vaguely sticky. She pulled over a stool and bade her to allow the oils to dry before leaving her spot. Satisfied that her mistress was going to heed her words, Liv went about cleaning up the mess that had been made. When she was satisfied that the chamber was close to being picked up, Liv washed and carefully dried her hands before pulling out a dress for her to wear for dinner. She chose a dark green cotton dress with little capped sleeves that were lined with Myrish silk. It was one of the gowns that had been produced for her journey South. It was a conundrum of a piece, for it was too fancy for everyday wear but not nearly fancy enough for a royal dinner. It was however appropriate for a casual dinner with her extended family, who happened to be royal. 

She was dressed as soon as the oils were dried. The gown fit perfectly to her body, like a glove. Liv tied the laces in a bow and adjusted the hems. Her hair was next. It had dried in the heat of the flames, wrapped tightly in the cotton bolt of fabric. When Liv let it loose, it hung in a near perfect cascade of curls. She allowed Liv to braid a few strands back, securing them with a green ribbon that matched her gown. Her red hair looked marvelous against the green color. 

“You are beautiful, Lady Sansa” Liv told her as she fixed an errant curl. 

“Thank you, Liv” She told her sincerely. Liv was a perfect maid. She did not bother with chit chat or anything of the such. She did her work and she did a fine job of it, “You may have the rest of the evening off. I can manage undressing myself later,”

“I will lay your things out for you, my lady” Liv promised. She nodded and picked up the handkerchief she had finished for Jon from her sewing basket. 

“I will be in the Godswood saying my prayers if anyone is looking,” She informed her maid before she left. 

It was getting darker as she made her way to the Godswood. Thanks to her rooms position it was no chore to get there though. She encountered a few household guards, but no white cloaks, and no royals. 

The Godswood was silent when she arrived. She slipped into the thick trees and made her way towards the faint sound of the little bubbling brook that was located next to her favorite spot. The weir woods were overgrown there, providing a little shelter and privacy to those that sought it. She ducked under the branches and found herself face to face with bottomless red eyes. 

“Ghost” Her heart pounded in her chest as she let loose a sigh. Ghost pressed his snout to her cheek, nuzzling her gently.

“Apologies, my lady. My wolf has no manners,” Jon spoke. She had not originally seen him sitting under the tree, a worn looking leather volume in his lap. He looked quite settled in so he had to have been waiting there for awhile, “You clean up well,” He complimented her, grinning slightly. Her heart warmed at the thought that he felt so comfortable that he might tease her.  
“I aim to please, your Grace” She replied as she tucked her gown under her legs so that she could sit cross legged next to him, their knees barely a breath apart. “What are you reading?” She questioned, taking the worn leather from his lap. He allowed her to do so.

“Tis a journal from the Blackfyre rebellion era. My uncle, Aemon, sent it from the Wall. I was quite enamored with Brynden River when I was younger. Uncle Aemon had been promising me that he would send this particular journal for over five years, I received it last week,”

“Wow” She exhaled gently as she flipped through the pages that were over a hundred years old. It was in excellent condition for its age, “Who was the writer?” She questioned, noting the careful handwriting that bespoke of a noble upbringing.

“Ser Eustace Osgrey,” Jon told her, “Of Standfast in the Reach,”

“I’ve never heard of Standfast,” She admitted.

“House Osgrey used to be a great noble house in the Reach, but after the rebellion and a few bad choices, they are nothing more then landed knights now. I believe Ser Hasifer Osgrey is the last of them,” Jon informed her softly, “But Ser Eustace is where the family began to fail,” 

“During the Blackfyre rebellion?” She questioned, just to make sure she was following this tale. She did not know much about the rebellion. Her studies had been cut short in the past realm, and majority of her studies focused on the North, not the South. Targaryen history was not as important in her previous realm. They were to be forgotten not remembered. 

“Yes,” Jon nodded, “Ser Eustace sided with Daemon Blackfyre. He fought at Redgrass with his three sons in the Blackfyre name. His fighting was of no great skill but the man has a gift in detailing the battles,”

Jon began to go into detail of the battles, describing them in the words of Ser Eustace. She watched his face at first, the expressions and the passion that he put into his wording. He was calling Ser Eustace a gifted storyteller but he himself was not so bad. She found herself drifting from the actual story, lulled into comfort by the sound of his voice. Her head dropped down onto his shoulder. If he noticed, he gave nothing away. He continued with his story, never losing his tempo. She listened to his voice and his excitement. It was a Jon she had never seen nor heard before. When describing battles in the past realm, Jon had been sedate. He always downplayed the details or skipped over them entirely. She supposed it was different then that. He had been a vital part to those battles. He had not had time to read about past battles, about rebellions and other exciting things. He was too busy living them in the real world. History volumes and tales of the past were always painted in a way that made them exciting and fun. Reality was never quite so pretty. 

“In the end though, his sons were all dead. He sent his daughter to the capital city as payment to protect his own neck, and then his wife took her own life when their daughter died during the Great Spring Sickness” Jon finished the tale rather abruptly. The ending caught her attention, and she gaped at him for a moment, lifting her head from his shoulder. 

“Well that is a tragic end to that tale,” She murmured as she sank back against him, thinking of how Ser Eustace must have felt, and how close it probably mimicked her own pain at being the only Stark just a short while ago. 

“It is,” Jon admitted, softly intertwining their hands together. His hands trembled slightly as he did so, “But he remarried eventually, to a woman named Lady Rohanne Webber,”

“Lady Rohanne Webber” She murmured. The name was familiar though she had no idea why it would have been. The lady was probably long dead, “Why does Lady Rohanne sound so familiar?” She questioned.

“Lady Rohanne remarried after Ser Eustace’s death,” Jon replied, “And she became Lady Rohanne Lannister, wife of Lord Gerold Lannister,”

“Mother of Lord Tytos Lannister” She whispered, remembering now. She had seen the name on the tapestries in the capital city of old. Joffrey had taken her to them to show off his family line. 

“Yes” Jon nodded, “It is strange how things interconnect, is it not?” He murmured, “Here I sit, reading this journal written by a man who perished a century ago, and yet we can trace pieces of his life to our own lives so easily,” 

“It is strange to imagine. If we write a journal now will there be others reading it in a century, wondering why we made such decisions?” She questioned softly, “Reading that journal, hearing about the rebellion from a source that lived through it, do you question their motives? Do you find yourself rooting for a side, or wondering why they were fighting at all?” 

“I wonder why they fought at all,” Jon admitted, “Half of my ancestors fought each other for a crown majority of them were not fit to wear. There were once many Targaryen’s, many branches of our family, but they all killed each other. There are very few left. You should not fight family,”

“I agree” She whispered, thinking of the Baratheon brothers, of the Lannister’s, of the Greyjoy’s, and the the Frey’s. 

“Mayhap we should pick a new topic” Jon suggested, “Tis quite a sober discussion to have,”

“Yes, it is” She nodded, “Oh, before I forget” She sat up quickly and removed her hand from his to grab the kerchief from her pockets. His face fell for a second, before she thrust the piece of silk at him, “For you, since I ruined your other kerchief,” She presented him with the newly embroidered piece of silk, grinning when his face lit up at the gift. He unfolded it carefully, displaying the full picture she had so painstakingly embroidered. The white wolf had an incredible likeness to Ghost if she did say so herself. 

“It is amazing,” He told her in awe as he fiddled with the tiny stitches, inspecting the piece thoroughly, “Thank you, my lady” He was so sincere when he said it, so utterly thankful for the small scrap of fabric and the few stitches she had given him. It was endearing, and so very much like her own Jon. 

She never knew who moved first. Was it her, drawn by the intense look of desire and want in his dark grey eyes? Or was it him, overwhelmed by such a simple gift, by the thought that she would put that much effort into a small trinket for him? Whoever it was, she had no complaints against them. His warm lips crashed into hers, his hands fisting in her long locks to hold her in place. It was far less chaste then the other kisses that they had stolen. There was tongue and teeth and a ferocity she had been missing since her departure from the old realm. Her fingers slipped through his silky curls while her other hand gripped his muscle bicep. His own calloused hands roamed through her hair, down past her cheek with a gentle caress, to the small of her back where he held her even tighter to himself. 

She lost herself in the feeling of his lips against hers, of his hands pressing her closer, of his body’s unnatural heat. When his lips left her own, she felt a pang of despair, but it dissipated as soon as she felt the warmth of his lips on her neck, kissing and sucking on that spot just beneath her ear that always drove her mad. She pressed herself closer. She was practically in his lap then; she could feel the hard length of his cock straining against his breeches. 

And then he was gone. He jumped away so fast that she tumbled back hard onto her arse. He stood above her, a guilty panicked look on his face.

“I apologize, my lady” He told her breathlessly, “I was improper and my actions were unbecoming of a prince. It will not happen again” He spoke in a quick breath, forcing out the words as quickly as possible before he turned heel and left.

“Jon!” She shouted when she pulled her thoughts together, shell shocked at his turn of though, “Jon, wait!” But he was already gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter from Jon's POV! Enjoy :)

“Cheer up, little brother. Whatever you’ve done, I am sure that Lady Sansa will forgive you,” Aegon teased him relentlessly as they traversed the thickly wooded forest of the Antlers. It was a cold day for summer, heralding the soon to be autumn. He was no great lover of summer but he did enjoy the warmth when it came to hunting parties. A cold, wet hunting party was no great joy.

“Sansa holds grudges,” Robb, ever so helpful, added, “And I will avenge her honor if you somehow managed to dishonor her,” He added, sounding menacing. If his cousin knew what he did in truth, he had no doubt that Robb would avenge her. He would beat a man down had they dishonored Dany or Rhaenys like he had defiled Lady Sansa, “Though my sister did say you had done nothing and that she was quite irate with your dramatics,” 

“She said that?” He gaped at his cousin, wondering exactly what Sansa, _no Lady Sansa_ , had said about him, and why Robb had not bothered to disclose this information earlier. It was their fourth day in the company of Lord Buckwell. Aegon had teased him relentlessly over it ever since they left the capital.

“Her exact words were; he’s being an idiot. He did nothing, do not make a big deal out of it, Robb” His cousin reiterated in a piss poor impression of Lady Sansa’s light soprano voice, “The irate part I took from her facial expression and her tone of voice,”

“Whatever it is that you think you did clearly is not so serious,” Aegon wagered, “You did not have to skip breakfast and dinner the other night over it. You are acting rather dramatic,”

“I felt ill. I wanted to sleep more so that I could take this hunting trip with you, though I regret it now with the way you two are acting. Can we not let it rest?” He grumbled. He might have been a little dramatic in skipping the past few meals, but he could not face the shame of seeing her, of knowing what he had done. She must think him a beast. He did not know what came over him in that instant. He never had trouble controlling himself, but somehow, whenever Lady Sansa was involved in particular, he lost his common sense.  

“What exactly do you think you did, brother?” Aegon ignored his request, as he had done for the past two days, “Did you spy on her in her chambers?”

“Oi, that’s my sister, mate” Robb protested loudly.

“I did not spy on her,” He quickly told his brother.

“Did she spy on you?” 

‘No”

“Come now, Jaemon, give us something scandalous,” Aegon wiggled his brows deviously. He groaned and rolled his eyes at his brother's typical behavior. 

 “Give us nothing and I will consider this the end of the conversation for the rest of the trip” Robb grumbled, looking sour at the turn of the topic, “I think you’ve tortured him long enough, Aeg,” 

“Oh come on, Robb, it’s Jaemon. Whatever it is he did is nothing truly scandalous. Did you finally work up the courage to kiss her, little brother? A peck on a the hand? A chaste smooch on the cheek? Is that what has your breeches in a knot?” Something must have shown on his face, for Aegon whooped in delight, “You did kiss her!” Aegon laughed heartily. Robb looked almost relieved.

“Is that really it, mate? You drew out this torture over a simple kiss?” Robb questioned, “It’s just a kiss. I’d imagine my sister has had her fair share of kisses from admirers before.  Hell, we’ve all stolen a kiss or two from a willing maid before,” He hadn’t though. She was the only maid he had ever taken a kiss from. It was like talking to Lord Eddard again in Storm’s End. His cheeks grew hot.

“A man grown and he’s blushing over kissing a maid. How green is he, Robb?” Aegon laughed in delight.

“How green is who, son?” Their father joined them, falling back from the front of the hunting party to listen in on their conversation. Viserys stayed in the front though, and for that small fact he was grateful. It appeared that Lord Buckwell was conversing with him. Lord help Lady Luella if she ended up betrothed to Viserys.

‘Our little Jaemon had his first kiss, father” Aegon boasted proudly, clutching his heart dramatically, “And now he’s all flustered over it and avoiding Lady Sansa because he dishonored her,” His father looked intrigued. He was even more embarrassed now. His father knew for a fact that he had kissed her in Storm’s End. Lord Eddard had admitted it to him.

“Is that so?”

“And Lady Sansa is irate with him because he’s being so dramatic” Aegon chuckled further.

“You sound like a lady gossiping over too many glasses of wine, my son. Leave your brother and his love life alone, especially in the company of the lady’s brother. And all three of you lower your voices, you are scaring the prey away,” His father advised in a light but serious tone. Aegon scowled, “And it was not his first kiss. Ask Lord Stark about that one,” And then his father road off, and Aegon was laughing again. Even Robb had a smile on his face.

“You told my father?”

* * *

Hunting was not all that it was cracked up to be. They had been at it for days, now on foot because his father believed that the horses were spooking the prey, and still hadn’t shot down a deer. Squirrels, hares, and the occasional bird had been taken down, but nothing bigger had been caught. Lord Buckwell seemed overwhelmingly confused and dismayed at the lack of prey. Talk had turned to poachers and suspicious activity in the area. Four days of hunting and no deer in the Antlers. All of the men were quite put out.

More hours passed, and still no deer. The sun set and they returned to their little camp. Enough small prey had been caught to feed them well enough. They would have to hope tomorrow that they caught a few on their journey back to the estate. It was their last night of the hunt. They would return home tomorrow evening if all went well.  They sat around the fire and traded hunting and war stories. Lord Buckwell had fought for his father in the Defiance years ago. He proudly showed off the scar on his chest that he had earned taking down an enemy soldier. Lord Buckwell’s only son and heir, who was just ten, sat wide-eyed at the stories being passed around. One of the household guards told them about his time over in Esso's with the Company. He had heard the story a dozen times but it was still easy to be in awe of it. They even regaled the youth with tales of the dragons.

After little Lord Buckwell retired to sleep, talk turned bloodier and bawdier. Groups separated. His own father and Lord Buckwell dispersed to talk alone, while the younger men grouped together. One of the guards from Lord Buckwell’s estate told them of the great whore house they had in the village. Aegon egged him on, wringing all the details from him with ease. His brother even commented that perhaps they would have to stop by on their way out of town. Robb grinned and laughed but offered nothing to that conversation. He himself had nothing to say.

Eventually, all the ale was drunk and started to settle into their bones. They were sleeping outside again. The air was warm and dry. The sky was clear, showcasing the glittering stars above them. They were never so visible in the murky fog of the capital. He had enjoyed sleeping like this for the past few nights. Ghost curled up against him, and Greywind against Robb. Aegon grumbled about not having his own personal source of heat, and the rest of the men moved their packs a few inches away in few of the great wolves. Ghost smelt like copper, a sure sign he had hunted well. He fell asleep easily, slipping into a relaxing slumber.

_He was in his chambers, lying on his bed with his back against the headboard. The balcony doors were thrown open wide letting a warm breeze in. He could smell the salt of the Bay in the air. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow about the place._

_There was someone else in the room. He could see her from his spot on the bed. She had her back to him, but he knew automatically who it was. Her long red curls hung down her back like a waterfall. She was pulling pins from her hair, causing more and more of it to fall down. She hummed as she went, oblivious or not caring about his blatant staring._

_When the last of the pins were pulled, she turned to him. A playful smile lit up her face. Pink pouty lips, wide blue eyes, and skin the color of cream. She was so beautiful. She stalked towards him, still grinning up at him from under her long dark lashes. She wore a green gown just like the one she had worn before. The green made her hair seem redder and her eyes see brighter._

_She reached the bed and climbed atop it. On all fours, she crawled towards him slowly. Her lips pressed against his as she reached her goal. Soft. She tasted like lemons and something else, something sweet. Her hair tickled his cheeks. He tangled his fingers in it to hold it back. Her lithe little hands danced across his scalp, gripped his bicep. He pulled her closer, his hand on the small of her back._

_“Jon” She whispered as he moved onto her neck, kissing and sucking at the soft skin. He had wanted to do that for awhile now. He wanted to taste every inch of her to see if she was as sweet as she seemed. So far she was. She was sweeter than he imagined. She leaned into him, her soft curves pressing against him in a delicious sort of way, leaned into him in a such a way that had him wanting to do more, to touch more. He wanted her._

He awoke with a start, slightly breathless and tight in the breeches like the green boy that he apparently was. It was still dark out, still night. He would guess it was hours before dawn still. He turned onto his stomach and thought of his parents, of Viserys. He thought of the cold, which turned to him thinking of her, and so he switched back to Viserys. It worked like a charm. Nothing killed any sort of emotion like Viserys. 

He took a few breaths and tried to fall back to sleep, but he couldn’t. Ghost had left him at some point, as had Greywind. He had an uneasy feeling about something as he tried to fall back asleep. He could see the guards stationed around the camp. A white cloak sat not ten feet away from him and Aegon. But something made the skin on the back of his neck stand up. He reached over and tugged his scabbard closer. Aegon would tease him over if he woke up tomorrow clutching the thing like a stuffed toy, but he did not care. 

He closed his eyes and focused on Ghost. When he opened them, he was tracking something through the woods. There were bloody tracks he was following, snout pressed to the ground. Something big had fallen close by. There were puddles of blood, and the scent of prey was strong. 

He pulled back into his own body and frowned. Something was definitely wrong. He used his foot to nudge Robb awake. He knew from Sansa that his cousin shared the same gift as he. It took a few nudges but the northerner eventually came to.

 “What?” He grumbled sleepily.

 “Where’s Greywind?”

 “How should I know, bloody beasts does what he wants,” Robb grumbled shortly, looking like he was ready to go back to sleep.

“Something’s weird. I know you can find out where he is, just do it,” He replied. To his credit, Robb did not argue. He closed his own eyes and focused. He waited a few second for his cousin to open his eyes again. When he did they were milky white. A minute later, Robb was back, frowning in confusion.

“They’re tracking heavy blood,” Robb whispered. 

“Too heavy”

“Like a trap” Robb realized.

“They’ve been purposely led away,” He whispered.

“Shit” Robb swore as he scrambled up, “We have to alert the gu-”

Robb never finished his sentence. Chaos unraveled as flaming arrows were sent flying into the camp from the surrounding trees. He watched in horror as Robb fell back sharply, an arrow piercing him. Aegon woke sleepily, rolling just in time. The arrow pierced his sleeping sack but missed him. 

“Jaemon don’t!” Aegon called as he lunged for Robb. He had to make sure he was still breathing, that he wasn’t dead already. The guards were already scrambling, securing his father and apprehending those responsible. He could hear them shouting orders, hear others screaming in pain. He did not worry about his father, the guards would protect him. Robb needed him now. He slid into the ground, frantically looking for the arrow that had hit his cousin. It was sticking out of his stomach, towards the side. Robb was breathing, cursing quietly at the damned thing. 

“I’m fine, stay down” Robb grumbled, tugging him closer to the ground, “Their target probably isn’t some Northern lordling, idiot” He added for good nature. 

“Ass” He grumbled, “Last time I try to sa-” Another arrow buzzed by, slicing him. Piercing hot pain shot through his face, radiating from his eye to his cheek. He felt the warm flow of blood, and Robb tugged him closer, grunting in pain as he tried to cover him with his body. 

“Shit, Jon?” Robb shook his shoulder, “Jon?”

“I’m alive” He grumbled in pain.  He was pretty sure he still had both eyes but he was afraid to relax his face, scrunched as it was. One, he was in pain, and two, he had no desire to find out if he had lost an eye, “Stop moving, Robb, you've got a bloody arrow in your stomach,” His cousin was contorted strangely above him, trying to protect him with his own body whilst trying not to jostle the arrow.

“Secured” He heard one of the guards shout, and then someone was yanking him up roughly off the ground. He heard Robb yelp in pain.

“Open that eye, boy” Ser Dayne ordered as he literally hauled him away.

“Robb?”

“Your cousin is fine; we’ve got men making sure of it. I gotta make sure you’re fine, so open that eye,” Ser Dayne repeated. He hesitantly opened it, sighing in relief when he found himself able to see. The blood was impairing his vision but he still had an eye.

“I can see,” 

“Just a glancing hit then, you look like death with all that blood running down your face,” Ser Dayne told him, “Might scar,”

“What happened?”

“Blitz attack,” Dayne huffed, “Looks like the Brotherhood,” The Brotherhood was the same gang that had murdered Elia Martell. His father had been trying to hunt them down in vain for years. Every time he executed one member, more popped up. 

“Father?”

“The King is secure. He’s already on his way back to the capital city with Gerold and Barristan,” Dayne replied, “Aegon and Viserys are with Whent and Darry. You and Lord Robb will go with me and the last of the guards, have to split you all up for safety, just incase we’re followed or there are more,”

“Did we lose anyone?” 

“Lord Buckwell lost a few guards. We lost a household guard named Bren who was on the perimeter,” Dayne sighed, “Might be an inside job,”

‘Lord Buckwell?” 

“It ain’t easy to get the slip on us, boy,” Ser Dayne growled, “Someone had to have crossed us somewhere. We’ve got some hostages coming with us. They’ll crack,” Ser Dayne probably shouldn’t have been telling him all this but Ser Dayne was never one to hold things back. His father, or rather his mother, preferred to have them a safe distance from any talk of violence, or potentially peace upsetting developments. 

“They led the wolves astray,” 

“Aye, and left you open for an attack” Dayne nodded, not even questioning how he knew that the wolves had been led away, “It was a very well planned blitz attack, boy,”

“Do you think the men you caught will talk?” He questioned.

“You know the stories of the Brotherhood, Jaemon” Dayne sighed, “We’ll talk of this when we return safely to the castle. For now, let us bandage that eye and get moving,”

Ser Dayne’s version of bandaging included dousing it with spirits and then wrapping a rather crude swatch of fabric around it. He did not want to know how Robb’s own bandaging went. His cousin looked pale and green as they rode under the darkness of night, the moon only managing to make his cousin appear paler, he thought. A few minutes into their quiet departure, the wolves appeared off the path, blurs of gray and white in the trees. No one spoke as they rode hard and swift towards the city. Ser Dayne led the bunch, with Robb and he behind him. The rest of the guards rotated on their sides and flank. He did not feel like they were in danger though, not anymore. The feeling of being watched was gone.

They circled south and entered the city through the King’s Gate. It was still late enough that majority of the city was sleeping. The sun had not yet risen, but he knew that it would soon. A few dockhands on the river were quietly readying their boats for the day. If they thought a royal escort at this hour was strange, they did not say anything.

When they reached the castle, he noticed two things. First, there were many more guards on the ramparts then usual. Second, all of the gates were closed. Usually, just the first gate is closed, but all three of the gates, the inner, outer, and middle, were locked tightly. It took several guards to open them, one at a time.

They were hustled in quietly. In fact, the entire castle seemed eerily silent. Ser Dayne led them towards his father’s personal solar. Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan stood outside on guard. Ser Gerold had a nasty looking bruise around his eye. If he had gotten injured, then the attack had gotten close to his father. Ser Gerold was his personal guard. They nodded as they approached, and opened the door quickly. Ser Dayne pushed both him and Robb in.

“Maester, this one’s been shot through the stomach, Prince Jaemon had a clean cut through his left cheek,” Ser Dayne spoke before anyone else could.  Pycelle ambled over on shaky legs, “Nothing dire,”

“Good” His father spoke, “Are you both alright?”

“Yes, father”

“Aye, your Grace” Robb grunted as Pycelle removed the cloak that had been staunching the bleeding. The arrow was still there, the men had just secured it with a crude bandage.

“What was that, father?” He questioned.

“That, my son, was potentially the Kingswood Brotherhood, a group of cowards and sell swords that have plagued the region for decades,” His father spoke bitterly, “They are the ones responsible for the death of your siblings’ mother,” He noted then that Aegon was not yet with them, nor was Viserys. 

‘Where is my brother?” He questioned.

“They had the longest route to take. They will arrive momentarily,” Ser Dayne answered, “Your Grace, shall I retrieve Brandon and Ronnett?” The two guards that had not joined them in their journey to hunt.

“Aye, go alert them quietly. I do not want news of this spreading yet,” His father replied, “And have Lord Buckwell placed in a secure chamber, not the cells,” He added. 

“You do believe that Lord Buckwell played a part in this?” He questioned, not quite ready to wrap his head around it. They had sat with Lord Buckwell around the campfire, broken bread and drunken ale with the man. The lord had been a friend to the crown for years.

“Do you recall seeing any of the other Buckwell children, son?” His father questioned, “The dozens of daughters that they have, as Aegon had put it?”

“Just Lady Luella and the heir,” He answered. When they had arrived at the estate, Lady Buckwell had apologized profusely for their absence, but had given no real reason, “You think that the Brotherhood used the other children as leverage to lure  us out into the woods?” He questioned.

‘I do not know what to think, son” His father sighed, “But all avenues must be examined until it is clear who betrayed us and why,”

The door opened again and Ser Brandon stepped into the room, only to be pushed aside by small, delicate hands. He feared for a moment that his mother had found out about the attack, and gulped. She would never let him leave the Keep again. But instead of his mother, he found Lady Sansa. She had a stern look on her face.

“Apologies for my intrusion, your Grace. I had the strangest feeling that my brother was being a reckless fool. I see now that I was correct,” She seethed, pretty words laced in venom. She glared at Robb as she spoke. He was glad to not be on the other side of her ire, ‘Is that an arrow?” 

“I did not chose to be shot at, Sansa, hells” Robb groaned as Pycelle set about cleansing the area with his little vials and potions.

“Lady Sansa, how did you know what had occurred?” His father questioned curiously. He made no move to tell her to leave. He did not even seem angry with her appearance. He seemed mostly intrigued. 

“The wolves, your Grace” She answered shortly, seating herself next to Pycelle and Robb. She shooed away the Maester’s hands, “Go tend to the prince, maester,” She ordered, the steel in her tone leaving no other option for the old man. 

“My lady, a wound like this-”

 “Requires a delicate hand, not one that shakes,” She interrupted him.

“Your Grace, really” Maester Pycelle sighed, “Dressing the wounds of a shirtless man is not proper for a young lady, surely you agree?”

“He is her brother, Maester. I see no fault” His father answered with a shrug, “Tis better to have four hands than two, for now, they can both receive care,” He reasoned. Normally he would be wishing for Sansa to have her hands on him, but he was content to let her ire fall on Robb for the now. He watched as she produced a knife from seemingly nowhere, and chopped the end of the arrow clean off. Robb winced as she jostled the wound.

“Do not move” She hissed.

“Hells, Sansa, do you even know what you’re doing?”  Robb managed to grit out as she poured water over the whole area, watching carefully. She then jostled the arrow shaft more, causing Robb to wince again. She started pressing her fingers into his stomach roughly. Robb tried to swat her hands away. Meanwhile, Pycelle pulled the bandages away from his face. It stung a bit as the dried blood gave way, and he hissed.  Sansa’s eyes flitted to him briefly in concern before focusing once more on her brother

“You are a lucky flabby fool Robb Stark” She muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Stomach wounds are fatal, but this one hasn’t hit anything of importance. It went straight through fat,” She jostled the arrow again, “Are you ready?” She questioned. 

“No” 

“Uncle, could you hold him please?” She requested. Ser Brandon looked up from where he had been speaking in low tones to his father. He nodded at her request and approached the two. He looked eerily similar even though the two siblings favored their mother’s side. Ser Brandon held Robb’s arms down tightly.

“On three,” Sansa told them softly, hands getting into position on the arrow. She had coated the arrow in one of the potions. It was slick with the stuff, “One, two” And she pulled it out before reaching three. Robb cursed and jumped but Brandon held him relatively still. Sansa held the arrow up triumphantly.

“Bloody hells” Robb cursed, “What happened to three, Sansa?”

“This was far easier,” She remarked, observing the bloodied arrow shaft she had just removed from Robb’s abdomen, “Uncle, there is something written on the arrow,” She murmured, “Zaldrīzi ossēnātās,” She read softly, a frown marring her face. 

“Zaldrizi ossenatas?” Robb questioned, “Is that Valyrian?”

“Slay the dragon” He heard her whisper. Silence had fallen over the room. Brandon took the arrow to his father who looked ashen. He knew those words. It was the slogan that the Brotherhood used. There was no doubt now. That arrow had been meant for him or Aegon, not Robb. The Brotherhood was active again, and trying to kill them,

“Lady Sansa, that is not the correct vial to use for a wound like that” Pycelle told her as she uncorked a blue vial. Sansa looked up with a quirked brow. 

“I am quite capable of dressing a wound, thank you” She replied icily before liberally applying the salve to Robb’s stomach. She then grabbed a needle from the kit and began threading it. Robb looked near ready to faint. He looked away when Pycelle began cleaning his own wound. At some point, Aegon and Viserys arrived with the last of the guards. Aegon checked in on his briefly before going to where the rest of them spoke. Pycelle was far less gentle than he imagined Sansa would have been. His hands did indeed shake. He felt a bit put out that she hadn’t reacted as much to his own injury, but he supposed as her brother, Robb was the top concern. She was probably still mad at him as well, thought his an absolute cad. He felt all the worse for it.

Pycelle deemed him finished after dousing him in potions and lotions. He needed no stitches, but the man did secure a fat wad of medicinal padding to his eye before applying an eye patch. He heard Robb chuckle about it before his cousin cursed at Sansa for not warning a guy. He couldn’t see but he imagined she had stuck him with the needle.

When he was able to see them again, Robb had a very neat line of stitches on his abdomen, and Sansa was finishing up the ones on his back.

“You look like a pirate, mate” Robb told him as Sansa sew him up.

“You look flabby” He retorted. Robb scowled.

“How did the two of you manage to get injured when no one else did?” Sansa hissed, quiet enough that no one heard her, save them. The rest of the men were discussing something quietly by his father’s desk. 

“We didn’t ask to be injured,” Robb retorted, “Besides, we’re both fine,”

 “A better shot would have killed you both,” She remarked dryly, “There, finished” She tied off the suture and cut it with her teeth. After she wrapped a bandage around his waist.

“Barristan, Brandon, escort them to their chambers. They all need rest, it has been a difficult night,”

“Father-” Aegon protested but their father wasn’t having it.

“We will discuss this and strategize in the morning. Our guests from the woods need a little time to think about what they’ve done before they’re willing to talk, after all,” He spoke, “No arguments. The castle is on high alert at the moment. No one in or out. Guards will constantly be patrolling,” He told them, “Now go and get some rest, all of you,” He ordered.

No particular guard followed them. There were dozens stationed throughout the hallways, standing by windows, doors, and points of entry.  Viserys stalked away without another word, no doubt to brood somewhere else.

“I think I need a strong drink,” Robb commented idly as they walked, “How about you, Aegon?” He questioned. 

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Aegon agreed quickly. They were gone before he or Sansa could protest. Alone now with her, he was confounded on what to say. Should he apologize? Should he ignore it?

“Godswood,” Sansa murmured softly, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the place. She said nothing else, just softly tugged him along until they were exiting the keep and entering the wooden area. The sun starting to rise at this point, illuminating the morning in a soft orange glow. It lit up Sansa’s hair, making it seem like fire. She pulled him to their little secret spot, settling in on the grass. He followed suit, sitting next to her. 

“Are you in pain?” She questioned gently, reaching out to caress his injured cheek. Her fingers danced gently over the patch, their icy coolness comforting. Her blue eyes were concerned, no trace of anger or hatred.

“No” He wasn’t. Whatever Pycelle had applied to the wound had numbed it thoroughly. She nodded quickly, dropping her hand to her lap. He noticed now that she wore her night clothing, a dark navy dressing gown. The thin cloak she wore over it had disguised it for what it really was. Now, close to her, he could see the looseness of the garment and her bare feet. She wore no slippers or stockings. He looked at her hair closely and realized that it was undone completely. She had no pins, ribbons, or plaits, “How did you know what happened, Sansa?” He questioned curiously.

“I dreamt it,” She murmured.

“Like a wolfs dream?”

“No, I didn’t see it from the eyes of the wolf,” She shook her head, “I just sort of, dreamt it,” She shrugged. He noticed then that her hands were shaking in her laps, a fine tremor running through them. He reached out and encases them in his own, squeezing gently.

“Are you okay, Sansa?” He questioned softly.

“I was afraid,” She admitted so quietly he almost missed it. Instead of saying anything, for he had nothing to say to that, he tugged her towards him gently. If she wanted to resist, she easily could have. She let herself be pulled closer though, and when she was in reach, he wrapped his arms around her loosely, waiting to see how she reacted.

She melted against him, her own arms wrapping around his waist tightly. He tightened his own grip, crushing her to his chest. She buried her face in his torso, tickling his nose with her hair. She smelt like lemons and vanilla with just the faintest hint of the Asshai bath salts. She did not cry nor tremble against him. She just held him tightly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged someone like this, probably not since he was a child, comforting Dany or being comforted by his own mother. He had to admit that it felt nice to hold her, to simply hug her. She curled against him, breathing softly. As they sat, entangled in each other, her breathing slowed and her grip loosened. It took him several minutes to realize that she had fallen asleep.

He watched her, feeling slightly voyeuristic as he did. In sleep, her face was smooth and peaceful. Her skin was as pale as the winter snow, her hair a bright contrast against it. Her lips were sinfully soft looking and pink, like rose petals. She had a faint smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and impossibly long lashes that matched her hair. She was beautiful, but he couldn’t help but think it was her eyes that really made her gorgeous. The blue orbs that held so many secrets, secrets that he wanted to one day be privy to. She gave away her feelings with those same eyes, easily conveying her happiness or her anger, but only when she was willing. He found that more often than not, her eyes were guarded, closed of to those around her. There was something mysterious and unknown about this beautiful girl lying so peacefully in his arms. He longed to make her smile, to make her eyes light up with the joy they so seldom showed. He had seen glimpses, a shimmer of joy when he told her that he wished to court her, more little shimmers when he presented her with flowers, a brief glimpse when she gave him that kerchief, but they never stayed. She was quick to tamper it down, to hide it from the rest of the world, and he had no idea why.

She was a mystery, but one he intended to solve.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

She woke up with a crick in her neck and the scent of snow in her nostrils. She was lying against something not quite hard but not soft either. When the pillow beneath her head moved, she realized she was lying on someone, rather than something. Jon’s breathing was easy and even. He slept on beneath her. She lifted her head slightly, taking in her surroundings. They were still on the ground of the Godswood. Jon had spread his cloak over her, even though she had her own. One arm was slung over her shoulders, the other over her lower back. Her hands were fisted in the material of his tunic. 

His good eye was obscured by the angle he slept at so that only the patch was visible. It was over his left eye, just as it had been in the previous realm. The only difference was the source of the injury, an owl versus an arrow. 

She thought of Robb as well, of his stomach wound. She knew that he had been felled by multiple injuries in the past realm, but it was said that the stomach was the first one he sustained. She felt sick at the thought of the past realm manifesting itself in this new realm. When she had dreamt of it, she had dreamt of the past. She dreamt of Jon in snowy mountains, being attacked by an owl. She dreamt of Robb in a great hall, everyone turning on him. She dreamt of the wolves in cages, and of herself, locked in the Red Keep. She had been in such a state that she had done something she had never done before, she had warged into a wolf that was not hers.

She had found herself in the woods, chasing a moving party on horses. The white cloaks had been removed from their shoulders to blend in better, but she knew from the scent that Ser Dayne led the party. She could smell Robb and Jon as well as blood. She could see the tight wads of fabric bracing her brother’s wound, and the hastily tied bandage around Jon’s face. Her heart had constricted in her chest, the feeling sending her careening back into her own body. Lady was watching her with her head cocked. She sent the wolf to the front gates, to watch for the return of the party. She slipped out of her own skin and into that of her wolf’s, feeling just as comfortable as she had been in Ghost. From there she had wandered the Keep, waiting for the return. King Rhaegar had returned first, hastily swept into his solar. If the guards noticed her, they paid her no mind. It had taken a little bit longer for Jon and Robb to arrive. She had growled at Ghost and Greywind, berating them for being led away. One of the guards noticed and gave the furry beasts a strange look but raised no concern. She looked up again and the boys were already in the solar.

She had debated long and hard about whether or not to go see them. In the end, she decided to go for it. She ran into Ser Brandon on her journey there, who did not look too surprised to see her. 

“Niece” He nodded, “Little early to be up and roaming the castle,” 

“Do not play coy, uncle” She retorted, following him towards the solar.

“Sansa, you can not-”

“I think the King can decide that, ser” She answered. Brandon sighed and kept walking. When they reached the solar, he asked her to stay put outside while he spoke to the king, but she scrabbled past. Seeing they were both alive and relatively well, her anger had crested. It was easier to yell than to be sad. She focused on Robb first, for Pycelle and his butchering hands were shakily getting ready to remove the arrow. One wrong move and the old maester would kill her brother. Past anger surfaced as she shoved him out of the way. She had removed many an arrow from the battlefield before. 

Now, sitting in the Godswood, the fear resurfaced again. What if the past realm was indeed seeping into this one? What if war was on the future horizon? Her brother and Jon would surely fight. As young as their parents treated them, they were both men grown. They would not be the youngest sent to battle. And if this realm started to play out like the last realm, she would be left alone in the capital city again. She couldn’t let that happen. 

But first, she had to get herself and Jon back to their chambers without being seen. The sun had risen, and with it the castle. They were toeing a very delicate line.

“Jon” She murmured as she sat up straight, shaking his shoulder gently. His face scrunched together adorably as he leaned away from her touch, no doubt wanting to continue to slumber in peace. She would imagine that he barely got any rest last night. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, which would definitely need to be washed, “Jon you have to wake up,”

“Hmm?” He blinked open his eyes sleepily, wincing at the brightness of the sun or the pain, or both. His gray eye focused on her, widening a bit. Her hand was still tangled in his locks. 

“Morning” She whispered, withdrawing her hand as she swept back his long curls, “Are you in pain?”

“A bit” He mumbled as he sat up straighter. His back cracked as he stretched out, “How early is it?”

“I don’t know” She shrugged, “I just woke up,”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” He told her, the same look of embarrassment and shame crossing his features as it had the last time they were in the Godswood together, “It was improper-”

“Jon, please” She held up a hand, stopping his words, “I would tell you if I thought you were being improper or if I did not like your actions towards me. Do not doubt that if you truly dishonored me, I would smack you. I know how to fight now, thanks to Ser Brandon” She added, lightening her words, “Unless you are not pleased with my actions, and find my behavior improper,”

“Of course not, my lady” He answered swiftly.

“Good” She smiled, “Now, you will get up and go shower and change your clothing. You’re covered in dirt in blood. Then you will meet me for breakfast in one hour, where you will explain to me why you went running out of the Godswood the other day then avoided me at all cost before you left,” She made sure she smiled, letting him know that she was teasing him for the most part, though she did expect an answer. 

“Oh, will I?” He was amused at her orders, “Are you commanding a prince, Lady Sansa?” 

“Aye” She nodded, “I am” 

“Tis a punishable offense, my lady” He warned.

“I’ll take my chances’ She answered brightly, “I expect an apology flower as well,”

“Were the flowers you received over my absence, not to your liking?” 

“They were beautiful” And they were. He had arranged for his manservant, Satin, to deliver them in his absence. She had a whole little bouquet of flowers in the vase on her mantle. The first white flower was just beginning to wilt. She would press it soon, preserve it, “But flowers cannot make it up alone,”

“You are quite the enigma, Lady Sansa” He told her as he pulled himself up off of the ground. He offered her his hand, which she gratefully took, “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?” He questioned, looking at her loose dressing gown. Her cloak was pushed back, revealing the loose fitting garment. She felt as if he knew she was bare underneath, no slip or undergarments or bindings. She did not even wear shoes. 

“You are a liar, Jon” She teased him as she pulled her cloak around her properly, hiding her lack of dress as best she could, “Come, we have to get moving,” She urged. They were going to be berated should they get caught. 

Jon led the way while she walked with her head down, carefully making sure her cloak and dressing gown covered the fact that she was barefoot. They were not far from her room, for she had a view of the Godswood from her balcony, but they did have to get up a flight of stairs to get there, and if they got trapped there, then they were toast. As it so happened, they could hear others that way, so Jon tugged her down a dark corridor, taking an alternative path. 

They were halfway down what she thought might be a residence corridor when they heard voices behind them. 

“Honestly, your Grace, they were uninjured. Lord Robb sustained a flesh wound to the stomach that missed all major systems, and Prince Jaemon suffered a mere scratch from an arrow,”

“My husband and son were involved in an attack on their lives, maester, and no one sought to wake me,” Lyanna was berating the maester.

“Damn” Jon cursed softly, eyes scanning the rooms, “Come on,” He pulled her a bit roughly down a few doors and then pulled one open, urging her inside, “Sorry,” He whispered quickly before he was gone, dashing to his own room perhaps. 

“Well, isn’t this interesting” A voice startled her. She swung around, eyes searching for the source. She realized then that she was in a familiar bed chamber. Daenerys sat by her balcony, sipping a glass of what smelt like honeyed tea. 

“Oh, thank heavens” She muttered as she deflated a bit. She had been terrified for a moment, but Daenerys would not tattle.

“Was that little Jaemon that shoved a half dressed noble lady with bare feet into my chamber at this hour?” The silver haired princess grinned, “What on earth were the two of you up to?” She questioned.

“Nothing” She answered quickly. Footsteps were heard out in the hallway. She froze, as if the Queen would hear her. Quiet as she could, she barred the princess’s door. Daenerys sat still on her perch, grinning like a madman. No doubt she had heard the Queen’s loud protests against the maester.

“Is that the Queen?” Daenerys wondered, “Perhaps I should say good morning,”

“Daenerys, please” She hissed as she moved away from the door. The girl just laughed though.

“Relax, you know I only jest,” Daenerys laughed, “Why is Jaemon home so early, and why is the Queen mad?” She questioned, the smile slipping from her face slightly.

“There was an attack last night. The Brotherhood,” She told her, watching as the color drained from the princess’s face, “No one is badly injured,”

“Who was injured?” 

“My brother took an arrow to the side, but it was just a flesh wound. Prince Jon took a glancing blow from an arrow to the left side of his face. He is fine,” She explained quickly, “I was in the Godswood with Prince Jon. I was afraid, so he offered his comfort. We fell asleep, and were making our way back when we heard the Queen,”

“So he shoved you in here?”

“It seemed the best option,”

“He better hope I don’t tattle on purpose for someone not telling me what had transpired. I suppose that is what I get for breaking my fast in solitude so often” Daenerys grumbled, “They are fine?”

“Truly,” She nodded.

“Good” Daenerys sighed, “You look affright. You cannot be seen in the castle like that. Sit, we’ll get you properly dressed,”

“You do realize that I am supposed to be acting as your lady in waiting while in the capital, yes?” 

“Then you can braid my hair in that northern style once I finish playing dress up with you,” The princess told her, already going to her wardrobe to find something she would probably find too revealing and too bright. 

Daenerys started by having her stick her feet in the warm basin of water that her handmaiden brought. Her feet really were a sight to be seen. While she sat and broke her fast with food that Daenerys had delivered to her, the silver haired princess went about twisting and braiding her hair. She pinned it half up, allowing the rest to hang freely. When that was set, she started digging through a trunk in the corner, pulling out gown after gown in various shades of bright colors. The princess ultimately settled on a purple gown that appeared way too long for the princess herself. She had a suspicion that it was to be another gifted gown for herself, especially when she slipped into it and it fit like a glove. The princess added a silver belt of her own to finish off the outfit, then demanded that she braid her hair like a northern maid.   
Ultimately they spent over an hour in her chambers, until a guard came searching for her. Once confirmed that she was safe and with the princess, the guard disappeared. She thought he was Ser Whent but she confused Whent and Darry sometimes. 

‘We should go seek out the King” Daenerys told her once they were both ready for the day, “No doubt he will have a speech to give, and new rules to dictate. I hope he does not cancel the festival over this,” She hoped not either. She had big plans for that event. As it was still a few days away, she thought not.

They made their way to the Great Hall, where Jon and Aegon were breaking their fast. Both stood at their arrival. 

“Oh, Jon” Daenerys gaped at the sight of the eye patch, looking quite bothered by it. She embraced him tightly, fussing over him like a mother hen. 

“I’m fine, Dany, I promise” He assured her, shooing her hands away, “Really, it is just a scratch,”

“You should have seen Lyanna fuss over him, Dany. You would have enjoyed it” Aegon told them joyfully, “Lady Sansa, I do hope you were safely escorted to your chambers last night,” He added slyly. 

“Lady Sansa spent the night in my chambers after you so rudely frightened her with this attack nonsense,” Daenerys answered as the King entered the hall. She was thankful for her friend, “Brother, I am not pleased to have found out about the attack second hand,” She added, glancing sideways at the King.

“Forgive me, Dany, I was a bit preoccupied last night,” The King sighed, “For the time being, Rhaenys and Arianne will be spending the week in Dorne. Their ship sailed out a few moments ago. Prince Doran and Oberyn would prefer them in the safety of Sunspear,” The King wasted no time, “The attack will be kept quiet while we investigate. A letter has been sent to your father via raven, Lady Sansa. It will take longer than the one sent to Dorne, but whatever he decides for your brother and you, we will respect,”

“Of course, your Grace” She had no intention of leaving though. She would write to her father after this, and tell him that she would not be leaving. 

“Good. As of right now, no talk of an attack will be shared with the public. The Brotherhood has not publically claimed the attack, and it would be wiser to keep it quiet,” The King told them, “Security has been increased. Jaemon, you will stay out of the public eye until that eye is healed, as will Lord Robb,”

“No council meetings or open forums?” Jon questioned, looking pleased.

“No, you are exempt for the time being” King Rhaegar answered, “Dany, you will take his place. Lady Sansa, the master I spoke to you about acquiring has returned to the city. He will seek you out to schedule the lessons,”

“Thank you, your Grace” She answered demurely.

“Life will continue as it has in the capital until a more definite answer to what this attack was over, and who orchestrated it comes to light,” King Rhaegar proclaimed, “If anyone hears or sees anything out of the usual, I want to hear of it,”

They all nodded and the King left. There was a strange feeling to the air.

“So you get injured, and I have to attend court in your stead” Daenerys complained lightly, “I would rather take the wound,”

Despite her demand that Jon explain to her his actions, he could not with the others around them. Instead, they found themselves providing a distraction for Aegon, who seemed to be in a strange mood. She would bet her life that it had to do with the same brotherhood that had killed his mother cropping up again. She did not blame him for his sullen mood. 

They eventually ended up in the gardens, playing cyvasse. All three were surprised by her knowledge of the game. She had learned to play from Baelish, during her time in the Vale. Like expected, he had been an exceptional player.

They paired up, Aegon and Daenerys versus she and Jon. Dany, as she had expected, was a worthy opponent. Jon and Aegon were both abysmal at the game. 

“Prince Jaemon” Maester Pycelle meandered into the garden, a few vials in his grip, “Did your steward not find you, your Grace?” He questioned as he reached them. Satin had indeed found them a few hours’ prior, alerting Jon to the fact that the maester was trying to track him down. They had all voted to ignore it. 

“It slipped my mind, Maester,” Jon answered innocently.

“You must keep that wound clean or it shall fester,” Pycelle berated him.

“Have you tended to my brother yet, Maester?” Robb had been ordered to rest in bed for the day. Aegon had visited him earlier, only to find him asleep and drooling. 

“I have”

“And how did his wound look?”

“You are an even stitch, Lady Sansa,” Pycelle grudgingly admitted, “And the wound appears free of infection so far,” 

“Then you may leave those vials here, and I shall attend to Prince Jaemon’s eye when we have the time, Maester. We are a bit busy conquering the world at the moment. If you are in agreement, your Grace” 

“Of course” Jon nodded as he toyed with one of the pieces, “I trust Lady Sansa is more than capable of dressing a simple scrape. Maester, leave the vials,”

“The Queen will have to hear about this, Prince Jaemon” Maester Pycelle knew better than to argue with a clear dismissal from a royal member. 

“No doubt she will” Jon sighed. Pycelle shook his head with a mighty sigh but left the vials and supplies for her. He limped away, grumbling about something under his breath. 

‘Are you a nursemaid now, Lady Sansa?” Aegon questioned.

“I know a few tricks,” She told him, stopping Jon from making a move. He was about to sacrifice one of their elephants, which would severely risk their king. Their dragon was not at harm, yet, but a few moves from now and they could have a problem. She frowned slightly. She could actually lose, “There, that one” She murmured, leaning in so only he would hear her. It wasn’t a perfect move, but it would protect them for the short term.

Daenerys grinned at their choice and began searching her pieces for a good move. Aegon made a few suggestions, but Daenerys wasn’t willing to listen. She frowned at the princess picked at the catapult, then toyed with the trebuchet. She did not want the princess using the catapult yet.

“Problems, Lady Sansa?” Daenerys questioned with a sly grin.

“No, your Grace” She replied sweetly as the silver haired princess moved her piece, the trebuchet, into a relatively harmless position. It was a position that left her open to take one of her Spearmen. Aegon cursed as she captured the piece, and further secured her King. 

“You’re killing us, Dany” He told his aunt, glaring slightly. He moved their next piece quickly, without thinking it through. Jon chuckled as he captured the last of their rabbles. All of their small folk were now gone. 

“You killed all your loyal small folk. I fear for the kingdom and our people if this is how you will rule,” Jon teased as he tossed the onyx rabble into the box, “Lady Sansa and I have managed to keep all of our men alive,” Though they had lost an elephant, a horse, and two catapults.

“We value people in the North” She added solemnly, taunting them.

“Valar morghūli” Aegon shrugged.

“Yn sparos ēlī morghūlilza?” A voice questioned lightly. They all turned to view the newcomer. A smile spread across all of the Targaryen faces at the sight of the man. He was clean shaved, with long dark hair pulled back to the nape of his neck. He wore maester’s robes but had no chain around his neck. There was a stern look to his face, his gray eyes calculating. 

“Haldon” Daenerys broke the silence, standing to greet the man. She hugged him rather improperly, but the man allowed it, gently hugging her back. Both Aegon and Jon followed suit, hugging the man. Clearly, he was well loved. 

“Haldon, this is Lady Sansa Stark. Lady Sansa, this is Haldon, our old tutor” Jon introduced them, tugging her forward.

“Ah, my new pupil,” The man grinned slightly, “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Sansa,” He told her, bowing his head an inch.

“And you,” She paused, unsure of what to call him. They had simply called him Haldon, but that seemed improper.

“Just Haldon, my lady,” He told her kindly.

“Haldon” She curtsied. 

“I see that you four are embattled in a very close game. If you do not mind, I shall watch,”

“Are you going to make us speak in Valyrian and criticize our moves like you did when we were children?” Aegon questioned as Haldon situated himself on the table next to them. He could easily see their moves.

“I am no longer your tutor, Prince Aegon. I have taught you all that I could. The rest is up to you,” He sagely advised. Aegon grinned at the words.

“I see traveling has not changed you” Aegon commented.

“And I see that five years has not changed your cyvasse strategy,” Haldon slyly remarked. Daenerys and Jon both laughed at the quip. Aegon rolled his eyes dramatically. He moved a horseman into a new position. Haldon clucked his tongue, “You still talk too much,”

She took the opportunity to capture said horseman, knowing that it would leave one of their rabbles open. If things worked according to her plan, then she would be one step closer to killing their dragon, which would leave their King woefully vulnerable. 

With Haldon there, silence fell. It seemed like they were trying to impress their old tutor. It was interesting to observe. Haldon gave everything away when they moved their pieces, clucking his tongue or sighing lightly. The only thing was that sometimes his disappointed noises did not match up with bad moves. He smiled when indecision passed their faces or confusion. He was playing them, she realized. Had he be playing one of them, he would certainly win.

She could play that game too though. She made sure she kept her face smooth, giving nothing away unless she wanted to, which she sometimes did. As they kept playing, Aegon slowly got pushed out. Jon seemed to be on the same page as her. They played every other move. As they got closer and closer to the inevitable end, she started dropping her mask.

She feigned fear and disappointment for moves. She sighed and gasped quietly, biting her lip when Jon moved, giving him sideways glares. All the while her hand sat on his knee, telling him that she was just playing the game, that she wasn’t really mad. She thought he understood when he gripped her hand back slightly.

In the end, it worked out beautifully for her and Jon’s side. They killed the dragon, and then the King was left wide open for attack. Daenerys tried valiantly to save herself but she had no men to do so.

Haldon clapped slowly at the end. Jon high fived her in victory, grinning broadly.

“And so the wolves beat the dragons,’ Haldon proclaimed.

“What did you think of the game, Haldon?” Daenerys questioned briskly. 

“Ah, you want to know where you went wrong,” Haldon nodded, “You have not changed, princess. You need to learn to trust others and to give a little. Aegon was supposed to be your partner. You cast him aside. Aegon, you need to be more assertive. Some of the moves you thought to make would have worked in your favor had you stood up to Daenerys. And you both need more confidence and a better poker face. You were far too easily swayed by my reactions to your moves, you doubted yourselves, and it showed on your face” Haldon advised.

‘And us?” Jon questioned.

“Frankly, I am in awe of you two,” Haldon told them honestly, “Your cyvasse skill has greatly improved, Jon. You were never quite as into the game as the rest of your family is. And you, Lady Sansa, I am beyond impressed. I should like to play you myself one day soon,”

“What of her confidence and giving things away?” Daenerys questioned, “She sighed and huffed more over Jon then I did with Aegon,”

“She was feigning,” Haldon answered simply, “A farse to lure you in, princess. She played you. And it worked spectacularly,” 

“I want a rematch, one on one this time” Daenerys demanded.

“At a later time, princess. You have court to attend with Aegon, and I have lessons, to begin with Lady Sansa” Haldon told her, “And you’ll have to wait until I have a chance to play her,” He added, grinning at the princess. Daenerys grinned back ruefully.

“You have not changed, Haldon. It is wonderful to see you again,” She proclaimed, kissing him on the cheek, “Come, Aegon. Haldon is correct. We must be on time for court,”

‘See how she bosses me about?” Aegon laughed, and the two disappeared.

“Lady Sansa, I have to retrieve a few things from my chambers, our lesson will commence in one-half of an hour. I trust Jaemon will escort you to the proper room,”

“Of course, Haldon” Jon nodded.

‘Good, then I shall leave the two of you to celebrate your victory,” Haldon smiled slightly again before leaving them in the garden.

“We should really take care of that eye now,” She told him, catching sight of the maesters vials on the stone table. They had put it off long enough. 

“You really need not do it, Sansa. I can handle it on my own,”

“Tis easier for someone else to, and I do not mind,” She replied, patting the stone table. If he sat, she could get better access to it. He did as she bid and sat on the edge of the table. She pulled back the eye patch and then gently released the bandages packed under them. It took everything in her to not react to the sight. 

The wound was eerily similar to the one in the last realm. It extended an inch down from his eyelid, and up past his eyebrow. It would scar, just like the one in the last realm had. It was crusted in blood and the potions from yesterday, but it was not the grossest thing she had ever seen. She used the first vial of blue liquid to cleanse it with the cotton tipped swabs. Jon winced but held still. She noticed that his hands were balled up into fists on his lap. She grabbed one and gently unfurled his fist, placing it on her hipbone. It was a trick she had used for the soldiers in the past realm. 

“This will sting,” She warned before she applied the green vial that was meant to ward off infection and promote healing. Jon gasped quietly in pain, hand gripping her hip tightly. His eyes fluttered shut. It was easier that way. At least then he wasn’t getting the potion in his eyes. She made sure it was properly covered with the salve, then pressed the clean bandages to it, and secured the eye patch.

“Done?” Jon questioned tightly. His eyes were still shut.

“Not yet,” She replied as she ducked a bit, pressing a chaste kiss to lips, “Now you’re done,” 

“I have heard stories that a fair maiden’s kiss can cure the worst of wounds,” Jon replied lightly as he opened his good eye, “Perhaps you should kiss me again, just to be sure,”

“Oh, really?” She laughed, though she pressed another quick, chaste kiss to his forehead. He was caught off guard.

“That doesn’t count,” He pouted.

“No?” She kissed his cheek, “How about that?”

“Nope,” 

She went to press a kiss to his other cheek, but he was sly. He turned at the last moment, capturing her lips with his. One hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place. She weaved her own hand into his hair, the other pressed against his thigh to hold her up as she hovered above him. He pulled away first to collect his breath.

“Better?” She questioned, breathless herself.

“Much better” He hummed, “Come on, I’ll escort you to Haldon’s little learning annex for your lessons,”

He walked her towards the library, which was apparently where her lesson was to be held. She took notice of the heavier guard presence and the constant rounding. No one was sitting still, they were constantly rotating. Jon paid it little attention. She followed his lead. He promised to check in on Robb for her. When they got their destination, he looked around before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. She blushed pink at his attentions. 

“Enjoy your lesson, Lady Sansa,”


	13. Chapter 13

Queen Lyanna POV

She watched from the upper balconies as her sons, Dany, and Lady Sansa played cyvasse in the gardens. The little stone table that they had chosen was basked in sunlight at this time of day, the perfect place to play their game.  She had been watching ever since Maester Pycelle had informed her of their dismissal of his services. She was close to barging down there this very moment to have him apply the potions and lotions, but she knew that would only cause Jon to be even more irate with her.

She had been livid this morning when she awoke to the maids, the maids of all people, telling her that her husband and sons had returned early from their hunting trip due to an attack. Fear had run hot through her blood at the thought of it. But then her maid admitted that they had been here in the castle for hours, that no one was severely injured, and that the King had requested she be let alone to sleep.

Her fear turned to anger quickly as she hastily dressed in a Stark gray gown, her favorite way to let her husband know that she was irate with him. She wore his colors to please him, but her own when she felt like he was not treating her as she deserved. It was petty, she knew, but it brought her some joy to lessen her irritation. She was not an insipid little noble girl who would be easily swayed by her husband, which he knew full well. She was a wolf, and he was about to face her teeth and claws.

Ser Barrsitan made a gallant attempt to stop her from barging into the solar, but she knew him too well. They had danced this dance many a time before. She ducked out of his reach before storming into the room.

“Rhaegar!” She barked, startling her husband from his little nap against his desk. He looked tired, but she would feel sympathy later. Right now, after assessing that he was fine and without serious injury, she would yell.

“Lya” He scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed a shave, he was looking like an old northern lord with that beard, “I was wondering when you would find me, dear” He added, looking innocent and naïve as to why she was so upset. 

“How dare you?” She demanded somewhat shrilly, “Why was I not awoken the second you returned? Instead, I had to hear about the attack from my maid, Rhaegar, my maid!” She whispered yelled, aware of the ever-listening ears in the castle.

“I did not want to trouble you, dear” He replied as he leaned back in his seat, stretching.

“You trouble me more with this” She hissed, “What the hell happened? Who attacked you?”

“Sit, sit, I will tell you the whole sordid affair,” He told her, gesturing to one of the plush seats on the other side of his desk. She ignored him, and perched herself on the edge of his desk, facing him. She was closer now, close enough to touch. She felt the anger ebb as she took in his tired, worry-lined face. She caressed his cheek, letting him nuzzle into her hand, press a soft kiss to her palm.

“Are you injured?” She questioned softly.

“No” He shook his head.

“Good,” She nodded, “Tell me what happened,”

He began the story, starting at the beginning with their arrival to the Buckwell Estate, and their subsequent hunt. He told her how there were no stags to be had, and how they were all getting tired of the hunt, and drinking more heavily then they would have otherwise. He told her how they went to bed last night, only to be awoken by flaming arrows and chaos. He told her how they thought Buckwell was involved, and how they assumed his children had been used as bait. They had lost Bren, a household guard who had a sister who served as a kitchen wench. She would have to remember to send her something.

“We think it was the Brotherhood. We have a few locked in the black cells, and Lord Buckwell is in the upper cells for the time being. No one has talked yet, Ser Gerold thinks it better to let them stew, perhaps bring them to the dragon pit. I am undecided at the moment,” 

“The Brotherhood?” She questioned, feeling fear creep into her bones again. They were the ones responsible for killing Elia Martell. They had evaded Rhaegar ever since, “How do you know that?”

“The arrow we pulled from Lord Robb had their words on the shaft,” He admitted. It took her a moment to synthesize his words.

‘Robb? He was shot?” She screeched, glaring at him for not telling her sooner.

“It was just a flesh wound, Lya. He’s fine. I’ve already sent word to your brother,” Rhaegar assured her, “I sent word late last night to Ned and Doran. Doran requested Arianne return, and I sent Rhaenys with her, just as a precaution. I think she was glad to go,” Aegon might allow her to call him her son, but Rhaenys did not. She was too old when her mother died to accept a new mother figure. She knew the poor girl had nightmares about the brotherhood. Sending her to Dorne was a splendid idea, “We will see what your brother wishes to do about it,”

“I shall write to him too, apologize for this” She murmured, even though it wasn’t her fault. She had promised him that his children would be safe in the capital, and now she had gotten his eldest son shot, “Did Pycelle take care of his wounds? What did he say?”

‘Lady Sansa took care of her brother,” Her husband answered lightly, no doubt expecting her reaction. She gaped at him, brow raised.

“Lady Sansa was informed of your return, but I was not?” Her voice was strained even to her own ears.

“No, Lady Sansa was not informed. She simply showed up shortly after her brother and Jon returned. When I questioned how she knew, she simply replied the wolves,” Rhaegar shrugged, “She stitched her brother up neater than Pycelle would have, let me tell you. She was the one that noticed the inscription in the shaft. I doubt Pycelle would have seen the writing. Now I have one more thing to tell you, but you must promise not to overreact,” He told her softly.

“I will not promise anything, Rhaegar” She warned him slowly. 

“This was at his bequest” And she knew then that it was about her son, her only child.

“What happened to him, Rhaegar?” She demanded, gripping his hand tightly, “Is he hurt?”

“He suffered a graze wound from an arrow. It came close to his eye-” She stood, pulling her hand from his, “Lya!” He grabbed her before she reached the door.

“Do not Lya me, Rhaegar, I am seeing my son”

“He wishes to rest,”

“He can rest after I make sure he has both eyes!”

“Lyanna, he is fine. He is a man grown and he has requested that you nor anyone else disturb him for awhile. He simply wishes to rest. You will no doubt find his door barred anyways,”

“Then I will pound on the door until he lets me in,” She told her, pulling away from his hand. He held tightly though, “Did you let that little redheaded fool patch him up as well? Did she con her way into acting as his nursemaid? I am getting Pycelle too, he will evaluate both Robb and Jon,” She kept struggling against him but he was not letting her go.

“Pycelle patched him up, not Lady Sansa” Rhaegar sighed, “Will you please stop fidgeting, Lya? Sit down and go over the plans and strategy with me, and then you can go wake Jon from his restful slumber. Give him another hour to sleep, and then I won’t stop you from seeing him,” He bargained.

‘Fine” She sighed, “But I want to speak with Pycelle,”

‘I’ll have him fetched in an hour, not a second sooner” Rhaegar led her back to the desk. She noticed now that he had plans laid out across it, new guard rotations and plans for the upcoming weeks, “I do not want news of the attack slipping out just yet. We cannot appear weak especially when we have half of the kingdom descending upon us in a short while for the festival and then the wedding,”

\------------------------------------------------

She let the hour pass as they formed a plan for security and the castle events. When the clock struck an hour to the dot, Pycelle appeared at the door. He had his little maester’s kit with him. He looked more tired than her husband.

“An hour is up. I am not done yelling at you. I will find you later” She promised, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He smiled against her lips.

“I look forward to it, wolf wife” He replied salaciously. She grinned as she left, pulling the maester along quite forcefully. She demanded he tell her all the details of her son’s injuries, which he assured her were not life threatening, nor sight threatening.

 “Honestly, your Grace, they were uninjured. Lord Robb sustained a flesh wound to the stomach that missed all major systems, and Prince Jaemon suffered a mere scratch from an arrow,” 

“My husband and son were involved in an attack on their lives, maester, and no one sought to wake me,” She grumbled. She had thought for sure that the insipid old maester would agree with her. They reached his chambers where Brandon was standing guard. She glared at her brother and struck his breastplate, “Did you not think to wake me either?”

‘I do as the king demands,”

“I do as the king demands” She mimicked him childishly like they were adolescents again, “That is a cop out, Brandon Stark, I am your sister first and foremost,”

“Your Grace, the prince requested no visitors while he rested,” Her brother told her as she went to knock. She gave him a withering look and then she knocked upon the doors. There was no answer. She knocked harder. It took several minutes, but eventually, he came to the door. 

“Jon!” She gasped, sighing at the sight of his tired face and the gargantuan bandage and patch covering his left eye. He looked exhausted with dark circles under his gray eyes, and his hair was a matted mess of curls, “Oh, my baby. Are you alright?” She questioned, pushing into his chambers.

“I’m fine, mother, ” He told her shortly, sounding as exhausted as he looked, “I was sleeping,” He told her a bit sternly.

‘I was worried. No one thought to wake me last night,” She berated him, “Honestly, darling, I know your father but I thought you had more sense,”

“Rest is a glorious thing, mother” He replied.

“Jaemon, you will not talk to me like that,” He was sounding like Aegon, all sarcastic and teasing. She was his mother, she had a right to fret.

“I apologize, mother but I am quite fatigued. Twas a long night,” He strayed further into the room, sitting idly on the chaise in the corner. She looked around, noticing several things were not as she expected. His clothing was tossed into the corner, his bed neatly made, and his shades were pulled wide. Had a servant been in to make his bed that morning, they would have picked up the clothing. Had he slept in his bed and just awoken to open the door, he would have closed curtains and a messy bed.

“You did not sleep here last night,” She spoke aloud, glancing to him, “Where have you been?”

“I was with Robb and Aeg, we could not sleep after father dismissed us last night” He answered wearily, “We took to the kitchens for a drink, or maybe a few” He shrugged.

“You are lying” She murmured, stepping closer to him. She eyed his manner of dress. His breeches were laced incorrectly, and his shirt was far too neat to have been slept in. He had probably just changed into the sleeping shirt. His socks were dirty though, like those that he wore hunting would be. There was blood on his neck from his wound, he had not yet bathed. She caught a whiff of something sweet, something far too feminine for her son. She leaned in closer, sniffing him.

“Mother” He pushed back, a horrified look on his face at her intrusion.

‘You smell of her,” She whispered, horrified to realize where she knew the scent from. It was vanilla and citrus, a light, delicate scent that Lady Sansa fancied. She had always preferred something deeper, something musky and fresh like pine needles, “You were with her, not here,”

 “She was with us after we left father’s solar” He answered easily.

“Was she now?” She questioned tightly, “And where did she go after you went to the kitchens with your brother and cousin?”

“She accompanied us. Like us, she found herself incapable of sleep,” Jon answered tightly. He was lying to her. She knew he was. Her sweet little boy, lying to her. He had never lied to her before. She was always his confidant. He came to her before he went to Aegon or his father.

“You are lying to me, Jaemon. You did not spend the night in your chamber, you reek of her perfume, and now you are lying. Tell me the truth,” She demanded softly, almost pleading with him to trust her once again. If the girl had seduced him, had played him then she would fix it. She would not damage his reputation.

“Lady Sansa was overwhelmed by the events. I hugged her in full view of her brother and Aegon,” He told her slowly, enunciating every syllable as he kept eye contact with her, “We suggested that she spend the night with Dany, and escorted her to Dany’s chambers before taking our ale to Aegon’s where we spent the night drinking and then fell asleep. I am a man grown, not a child. You would do well to remember that, mother,”

“Jon-”

“Now I had a trying night and right now, you are not making my morning any better. If you would excuse me, I must ready myself for the day,”

“Maester Py-”

“The maester can find me later. It has not yet been that long since the first dressing was applied. You may leave now, mother,”

She knew a dismissal when she heard one, and despite the fact that he was her son and she was worried, she knew fighting him at the moment would only make it worse down the line. So she tucked her tail and left him. She dismissed the Maester harshly at the chamber door, bidding him to check in on her son at midday, and report back. Brandon, who was still guarding the door, laughed under his breath.

“You dare laugh at the Queen?” She demanded, whirling around to glare at him.

“I dare laugh at my sister, your Grace. Did you not just tell me that you were my sister first and foremost?” He threw her words back at her with precision. Sometimes she wished Ben or Ned had followed her South, especially when Brandon was feeling so cheeky. Her elder brother might serve her husband and the realm now, but like she had said, they were always siblings first and foremost. It was something she had made him promise her back when he first sacrificed his future to be a Kingsguard.

“Where did my son sleep last night, Ser Brandon?” She questioned instead.

‘With his cousin and brother after imbibing in too much ale,” Brandon replied shortly, “He’s right, your Grace. He is a man grown, and he makes his own decisions. You must trust him to make the right ones, trust that you raised him right,”

‘It is not him whom I distrust,” She muttered.

“She is my niece too, Lya,” Brandon murmured, “I know you see Lady Catelyn when you look at her, but she is more Stark despite her Tully coloring. I think if you took the time to get to know her, you would like her very much,”

“What do you know of it?” She grumbled, acting like she was ten and four again, and Brandon had stolen her journal. 

‘I dishonored Catelyn, and as a family, we were lucky Ned stepped up. She has forgiven me for an act that should not have been forgiven,” Brandon told her, “She loves Ned, and he loves her. They have a beautiful family and a wonderful life up North. Whatever issue you have with her, your Grace, it is undeserved on her part,”

‘That is enough, Ser Brandon” She replied swiftly, cutting off his little spiel, “Keep an eye on the prince. For any injury he gets, you will receive its twin” She told him before leaving.

That was hours ago. She had forgiven her brother now. He was righ, after all, her grudge against Lady Catelyn was undeserved but that did not change things. The lady was a simpering southern woman who managed to worm her way into her brother’s heart. She was like all the other women of the court that smiled and complimented them in public but cursed and insulted them in private. And her daughter was the same. She saw only a crown, not Jon himself.

She watched them as they played. Eventually, Haldon found them. She knew her husband had hired him as a tutor for Lady Sansa. Why the girl had to learn Valyrian was beyond her, but her husband insisted. Like her brother, her husband seemed to think the two were a good match. She watched with a smile as her family hugged the old half Maester. She knew they all missed him. He was an integral part of their childhood. She enjoyed him as well when he tutored her on her arrival in the capital. He was a stern man with a dry sense of humor. He never sugar coated anything.

She watched as Jon pulled Lady Sansa forward by the hand, gentle in his movements as he led her in front of him, a hand on the small of her back. Haldon bowed to her and then she curtsied. With introductions settled, they went back to their game.

Everyone was serious with Haldon watching. She knew that they all strived for his praise and approval. Aegon was phased out by Dany early on, but her son and that girl seemed to work well together. They took turns, moving without even consulting each other. She watched as Dany grew more and more hunched, and knew that she was losing. 

Eventually, Jon made a move, Dany cursed loud enough for her to hear, and then Lady Sansa tipped over Dany’s King. They had won. Her son slapped hands with the Lady in victory. She could not tell what was said next, but Dany and Aegon were leaving, and then Haldon was too. She would have to speak to him about leaving the two alone. She was about to intervene, for the lady’s own sake, when her son’s harsh words this morning sounded in her head.

So instead she watched.

Lady Sansa patted the stone table, urging her son to take a seat. He did so, making it so she could easily reach his eye. She gathered the vials that she assumed Pycelle had left for her son, and set them nearer. The lady stepped in between her sons parted knees and reached for his eye patch. She pulled back the eye patch and then gently released the bandages packed under them. She kept perfectly still, assessing the wound with a clinical look to her face.  She briefly admitted that it was brave of the girl not to react to a wound that was probably quite ghastly. She had wanted to watch the girl swoon. She quickly cleansed it with cotton tipped swabs, bending slightly to get at it better. Her son winced but held still. From her spot above them, she knew her boy was in pain. His fists were balled up tightly. Lady Sansa noticed that as well. She dropped her cotton tips and grabbed his hands, smoothing them out gently. She placed both on her hips, then set back to working on his eye. 

She watched as she applied a new lotion. Her son jerked in pain, gripping his hips tightly. Lady Sansa worked quickly after that, applying it all and then applying the bandage and patch again. She patted his cheek softly when she finished. 

Her son asked something. Lady Sansa grinned and shook her head, and then bent to kiss him. She gaped at the chaste kiss, and even more so at the smile on her son’s face. He said something again, making the girl smile at him once more. She laughed, throwing her head back slightly, red hair tumbling over her shoulders, and then kissed him again. This time it was on his forehead. Her son pouted, she could see him from there. Lady Sansa kissed him again on the cheek. Her son shook his head. Lady Sansa went to kiss his other cheek, but her son, her little boy, moved at the last moment! She watched in horror as he kissed her properly, his hand tangling in her hair, keeping her against him. She turned away.

Her own son. Lady Sansa might have started it, but her son, he pulled her in, kept her there. He brought it deeper. Her son. 

By the time she looked back, the two were gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Having a proper lesson was not something that she was used to. Her lessons had ended at the age of eleven when she left Winterfell. They were not offered in the capital, and those from Petyr were far from traditional. Sitting at a long table with a basic language book and a slate and chalk piece before her felt strange. Haldon began with the basics of the language, and a brief history then went over the alphabet. About an hour into their lesson he came to the realization that she could speak and write the language quite well. 

“ _Why do you require a tutor? You speak better than some of the royals”_ He questioned in perfect Valyrian. He spoke fluidly, making the words sound like a song. She thought he might have spoken better than King Rhaegar himself.

“ _To be perfect”_ She replied in Valyrian, “ _My accent”_

 _“Is near perfect, especially for a Northern lady”_ Haldon answered with a puzzled smile, “Honestly, Lady Sansa, I cannot imagine I will be much help in perfecting your language skills. Does the King know you speak so well?”

“He has heard me speak in their old tongue, yes” She nodded, lying without actually lying.

“Well, I cannot possibly make you any better, my lady,” Haldon shook his head.

“Mayhap you could instruct me on something else then, like history. We could do it in Valyrian to increase my vocabulary,” She suggested. She still wanted a detailed history of the past half of a century. She knew the basics but she needed more. This would be the perfect guise to do so.

“I suppose that would be alright. The King did ask that I teach you something,” Haldon nodded, “Our next lesson then will be in history. Where do you want to start?”

“With recent history, King Aerys perhaps,” She told him.

‘The reign of the Mad King it is then. Go to the library and look for a volume by Maester Qygly. It is called “A King of Kindness”. You can only find it in a few select libraries across the realm. Many burned it after his descent into madness. I want you to read it, then seek me out to schedule another lesson once you are finished,”

“Alright,” She nodded, “Until then,”

\---------

She visited Robb in his chambers after her lesson. He was reading a book in his bed, looking quite well. Greywind slept next to him, snoring slightly. She hesitated before deciding to sit next to him, pushing him over an inch. He saved his page before looking to her with a quizzical grin.

“Sister” He nodded

“Brother” She greeted, “How’s the wound?”

‘Better. Tis healing” He answered with a shrug, “You have a look to your face. What have you come for?” He questioned. 

“To write to father and mother” She answered, holding up the parchment and quill she had brought from her chambers. She did not trust him to have stationery on hand. The little bottle of ink was in her pocket, “Prince Doran asked that Princess Arianne returns to Dorne, so they left this morning. Princess Rhaenys opted to go with her,”

“You do not want Father to call us home,” Robb deduced, “I cannot say that I think returning would be a bad idea, Sansa. We have no idea what sort of trouble this Brotherhood is going to cause,” 

“Traveling with them loose would be much worse. We are kin to the Queen, we could be captured and used as bait should they wish to antagonize the crown,” She reasoned, “We are safe within the walls of the castle,”

‘You just wish to spend more time with Jon,” Robb laughed.

“Are you not having fun here, brother?”

“Of course I am. My stomach wound excluded” He grinned, “Fine, I shall sign my name to the beautifully written missive you’ve no doubt drafted for father’s benefit,”

“It quite short, actually,” She told him, “Listen”

“Dearest Mother and Father,

Robb and I are having a wonderful time in the capital city. No doubt you have just recently received a concerning letter from King Rhaegar. Please do not worry, Robb is fine save for a few neat stitches. He sends his love but has no patience for writing, as usual. We both agree that we are not going to be cowed into leaving the capital. At this moment there is no proof of evidence that the attack was anything more than a one-time occurrence meant to scare. We are not afraid of living in the castle or being in proximity to the royal family. Lessons and daily court sessions are going splendidly. Being in the capital has brought us both a new wealth of knowledge. With love, your children,

 Sansa and Robb”

“That is good, you do not ask to stay, you state that we are staying” Robb reasoned, “Here, let me sign it so you can go send it quickly,”

‘See, you want to stay too” She teased as he signed a bit messily. He got ink on the linens of his bed, not that he seemed to mind, “Do you need anything?” She questioned as she stood, letter in hand.

“No, Aegon and Jon are bringing ale and cards by to entertain me for the night. Unfortunately, you will not be able to see your little boyfriend until tomorrow,” He teased.

“I suppose I’ll have another sleepover with Daenerys,” She shrugged, “She smells better than you three pigs”

“Ah, you wound me far more than this actual wound, sister” Robb sighed dramatically, “Go on, get going, you best hope I do not tell Jon that you said he smelt like a pig,’ 

“I said all three of you smelt like pigs, not just him,” She replied with a grin, “Good night, Robb. Be careful with that side!”  She called over her shoulder as she left his chamber. She nodded to the guard she passed as she walked towards the rookery. It was evening now; the air was getting cooler as the sun set. She was tired, she had not gotten much sleep last night after her dream.

She made it to the rookery and had the steward use the fastest raven to send it North. She sent the smaller note to Arya as well. It did not mention the attack; it was just a simple greeting. She had not spoken to her sister for a while now. She almost wished they would visit, but now would not be a good time. From the rookery she made her way towards Daenerys’ chambers, looking for a companion for the evening.

“Lady Sansa” Someone called. She stopped and turned to find herself facing the Queen, who looked eerily similar to her own sister in the plain gray gown she wore. In the dimness of the corridor, the Queen looked far younger than her actual thirty some years. 

“Your Grace” She curtsied quickly, a bit surprised to see her.

“Have you supper plans, Lady Sansa? I hear the boys are taking to your brother’s chambers to cheer him up and my own husband is engaged in closed door meetings,” She murmured. She looked the Queen over carefully. She did not look mad or overly upset. She looked placid almost.

“I do not, your Grace” She answered. She had not yet made it to Daenerys’ chamber to ask her.

“Good. Might I suggest we sup together then? We have not had time alone together since you arrived, niece” It was a suggestion, not an order. The Queen was leaving it up to her. It was a strange offer, it nearly seemed like an olive branch.

“I would be honored, your Grace” She told her graciously.

“Good. Meet me in my solar in thirty minutes. No need to change, it will be informal,” She told her before swishing away in her gray gown. She watched her leave, feeling vaguely ill. She went back to her chambers quickly to change. While the purple gown from Dany was beautiful, it was far too southern.

 She did not bother calling for Liv. She slipped out of her purple gown easily, tossing it on the bed. Liv would hang it up later, hopefully. She slipped into a navy northern styled gown that had navy roses across the bust. She braided her hair over her shoulder, letting it hang down her left side. She slid into her worn leather boots. With a last look at her reflection in the looking glass, she was off. She was not the old Sansa Stark, and Queen Lyanna was not Cersei Lannister. They were of the same blood. She could fix whatever it was that was between them, and she could do it without conflict hopefully. She would charm the former northerner, and win her over, or so she told herself 

Ser Darry was on the door when she arrived. He nodded to her briefly before pulling the door open.

“Thank you, ser” She murmured as he slid it shut behind her.

The Queen was sitting on the balcony, sipping on a glass of wine. She had not changed out of her gray gown. There were two plates on the table as well. It smelt like fish of some sort. Her least favorite, which her aunt probably knew. 

“Come, sit, eat’ She called, not bothering to look over at her. She joined the Queen on the balcony, taking the seat next to her. A servant brought her a matching chalice of wine. It was a sour Dornish red, “I hope you like fish, niece,” 

“I do, thank you” She replied as she took a bite of the fish, which tasted extra fish like to her. She had always hated fish. Her mother could not fathom why, “Tis a beautiful view” She told her honestly, swallowing before speaking. The Queen had a magnificent view of the entire capital spread before her. Fire twinkles through the city, illuminating it as the regular common folk went about their evenings.

“That it is,” The Queen nodded, glancing over finally, “You changed,” She commented.

“I wished for something more comfortable. The purple gown was a gift from Princess Daenerys this morning, and while beautiful, it was a bit too much for my taste,” She told her truthfully. 

“You were with Dany this morning?” The Queen questioned lightly, “I have not seen her today,”

“I was ill at ease last night after learning of the attack. I wished to sleep in the presence of a friend,” She lied easily.

“Of course, tis understandable,’ Lyanna nodded, “I myself was quite disturbed when I awoke this morning to hear the news. And yet I hear that you were present in my husband’s solar last night in time to dress your brother’s wounds. Is that true?”

She took a slow bite of her food, letting the silence stretch.

“Yes” She answered finally.

“And how did you know about the attack?”

“My wolf, your Grace” She answered, “She was ill at ease, pacing, and whining. I simply followed her. Back home it was common for the wolves to sense each other. Once when Bran broke his leg, Summer howled for us to find him. The wolves howled back to their brother to let them know we were on our way,” The Queen watched her carefully. She stayed silent, eating her own supper as she thought over what she wanted to bring up next.

“And then I heard that you dressed your brother’s wound, pulling out the arrow yourself. Do you do that often in Winterfell?” The Queen questioned, finding her next spot of attack.

‘Of course not, your Grace. Maester Luwin is quite capable, as you know,”

“Then why do it at all? How did you know what to do, how to do it?”

“Maester Luwin taught us all basic aid, and the rest, well I enjoy reading. As for why I did it, Robb is my brother and your Maester is older than half the relicts in this castle. I did not trust his shaking hands nor his wine clouded eyes,”

“And yet you let Maester Pycelle dress my son’s wounds,”

‘The King was present and bade the maester to do so. It is not my place to dictate who cares for him, though it was just a simple clean and bandage. Twas little the maester could do to mess it up,” She told her honestly. 

“You cleaned and dressed his wounds in the garden though,” It was not a question. She had felt eyes on her as she had done so, but she hadn’t been able to see who it was. Apparently, it was the Queen.

“I did, yes”

“It was your place then?”

“We were in the middle of a tense cyvasse game when Maester Pycelle interrupted us. Prince Jaemon did not wish to engage with him, so I offered and the prince accepted,” 

“And then you had lessons with Haldon, or so my husband said. How did you find those?” 

‘Haldon is a very capable tutor, your Grace, and your sons and Princess Daenerys speak very highly of him. I am beyond grateful to be given the opportunity to learn something from him,” She replied honestly. She saw the way the Queen’s brows lifted slightly when she called Aegon and Jon her sons. She knew that it would please the Queen to hear that.

“You are learning to speak High Valyrian,” The Queen stated plainly, “It is not a typical language for someone of the North to speak, nor is it very easy to learn,” 

“You are of the North, your Grace” She answered, “It is more of a refinement course, actually. Being taught in the North and reading the few books Winterfell has to offer on the language has given me a limited knowledge of the language already,” She told her honestly. It would come out eventually that she knew the tongue. As much as she enjoyed the opportunity to eavesdrop when they were not aware of her knowing the language, it was bound to end soon. The King and Haldon both knew she spoke it.

“You speak it already?” The Queen questioned in surprise, brow raised.

“Yes” She nodded, “ _Maester Luwin taught me the basics, and the rest I scoured the books for_ ,” She told her in the tongue.

“You do speak quite well for someone of the North,” The Queen granted stiffly. It was near a compliment, she supposed.

“Thank you, your Grace” She smiled faintly.

“Do you know why I asked you to sup with me, Lady Sansa?” She questioned, changing the subject. Apparently, the small talk was over. The Queen was cutting straight to the chase now.

“I could guess,” She answered evenly, taking a bite of the mashed turnips. They were delicious compared to the fish. She should have mixed them instead of trying to prove something to the Queen by eating the fish first and alone.

“I wish to know your intentions towards my son,” She told her seriously, gray eyes searching her own. She let her search. She would find nothing.

“I have no set intentions, your Grace. I am here in the capital to get to know Prince Jon better,” She told her softly, “We connected, I would consider him a good friend at this moment. We wish to get to know each other better,”

“So you are not here to seduce him into marrying you?” The Queen questioned bluntly. She gaped at her a bit, surprised by the bluntness of the question.

‘Excuse me?”

“I have no patience for this, Sansa. I give you leave to speak freely, but I am going to speak freely as well. Do not lie to me, niece” She warned her in an even tone, she was not angry nor impassioned, she sounded almost rational about it all.

“I will not lie to you, Aunt Lyanna,”

“I heard you and your little friend Margie in Riverrun, planning on how to seduce Aegon. You switched, thinking Jon was the easier game. He is naïve, my son, he cares too much for others, is blinded by things like agendas and plots. He is more apt for the battlefield than the small council. That is why he has me to protect him from those that seek to use him,”

“I may speak freely, your Grace?” She double checked. The Queen nodded tersely. At least she was going to be fair about it, “It is no secret that you do not like me, Queen Lyanna. You have done nothing to hide it. You have said awful, demeaning things about me, your own blood. I can understand it, to a degree. You love your son; you want what is best for him. All mothers do. I cannot fault you for that. But you judge me based on someone I no longer am,”

“The one I judge you based upon was only a year and a little while ago,” The Queen scoffed, “Have you changed so much in such little time?”

“I have,” She answered simply, “Whether you believe it or not. But I ask that you remember who you were at ten and six, and who you were just a year before that. I ask that you remember the choices you made that others questioned, the names and the whispers that followed you, the war that you nearly started,”

‘You dare bring that up? 

“You bade me speak freely, and I am” She answered quickly, silencing the rant that the Queen was bound to start, “I will tell you the truth if you are willing to listen,”

“Go on” Lyanna grumbled.

“What you heard at Riverrun, I do not deny. I did do that, and I did say those things to Margaery Tyrell. It was my first real taste of court life, of life beyond the Northern borders. You must remember your first time leaving the North. Perhaps you were not interested in the things that I was interested in, but you wanted something different, something more than the North and the Stark name could offer,” She watched the Queen, but the woman gave no thing away, “I realized after Riverrun that it isn’t a life I want. I do not want to be a porcelain prize for some lord or prince to boast about drunkenly at feasts, a piece of adornment on their arm, one that is seen but never heard. I have a voice and I have ideas of my own. I want a marriage like my parents, like my sister. One of love and friendship and mutual agreement. I don’t want to be sold like a piece of cattle,” 

“A pretty speech, but how much is true?” Lyanna questioned, “I know girls like you, Sansa, vipers in jewels and pretty gowns, willing to betray their husbands and family for more jewels, more pretty gowns,” 

“You think that I am my mother. You think that she married my father because she wanted to be a high noble Lady, the wife of the Warden of the North. You forget that her original betrothed, one who was legally promised to by the Lord of Riverrun and the Lord of Winterfell in a marriage pact, left her. She kept her promise, and luckily for House Stark, House Tully was willing to suffer the embarrassment of the first betrothal failing and marry the second son. Everyone that year was lucky when it came to marriages and dissolutions of pacts.  It could have gone much worse, your Grace. Wars have been started for less,” She murmured, thinking of the last realm.

“You are exactly like your mother, Sansa, with that little speech, dissolving yourself of all blame and putting it on others. You switch your affections easily, from Aegon to my Jaemon. You bat those eyelashes over those clear blue eyes, speak pretty words that have no deep meaning, and flip that Tully hair over the shoulder of your impeccable gown,” Lyanna accused, “You could not handle being a princess, a Targaryen. You lack the guile, the head for politics. You are too easily swayed by others, by popular opinion. You want to fit in so badly, to be a part of the court, but you never will. When things get tough, you’ll turn tail and run. You don’t have the spine to be a royal. My son needs a strong partner, not a doll.  It is my duty to make sure he finds someone that will lead with him, and you are not she,’

“And if your son chooses me?”

“He will not,” She said simply, so very sure of herself.

She watched Queen Lyanna with her self-satisfied smile, waiting for her to refute that statement, waiting for her to fight back. But she sat still, just staring at her. 

“Are we finished here, your Grace?” She questioned after a moment. 

“Yes” The Queen remarked icily. The flicker of surprise and disappointment at her refusal to further engage in the argument passed over her face quickly.

“Good” She downed the rest of her wine and stood gracefully. She turned to her aunt and curtsied as etiquette dictated that she do, “Thank you for inviting me to supper, your Grace. Do have a pleasant night,”

The Queen said nothing as she left.

It could have gone better, but overall, it had not gone horribly. She had no doubt that whatever the Queen had caught her saying was awful, and that her reservations were partially deserved. She disliked that the Queen’s words were similar to others she had heard in the past realm. She had been a naïve little girl. She had been weak. But that was in the past, and she would continue to prove herself worthy of Jon in this realm, no matter what it took.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to read this story! I appreciate each and every review and am trying to comment back to them in good time. They are so insightful and kind. Enjoy this next chapter, things are going to start heating up!

It took nine long, arduous days for Lord Buckwell to cave and profess his guilt. It was eight days too long in her opinion. One hour with her wolf and he would have been singing his guilt from the Hand's Tower. It was a long nine days being stuck in the castle. They played a lot of cyvasse. She was banned from playing on the third day because she kept winning. The Queen stayed her distance, and she and Jon grew closer. They met nightly in the Godswood, where he usually had a history book or two to share with her. He learned of her history lessons with Haldon, though she withheld her proficiency in Valyrian for now. She enjoyed the quiet nights spent discussing the follies of their ancestors and wondering how different life most have been centuries ago. 

The ninth day following the attack began like the others had. They all took breakfast in the garden. They were nearly finished when Ser Brandon arrived, announcing Lord Buckwell’s break. He had begged for an audience with the King, so King Rhaegar was calling for those that knew of the attack to bear witness to the confession. Being constituents of the North, she and Robb were both invited to attend. Ser Brandon bid them all to go change into appropriate clothing.

She and Robb changed into grey, to represent their house. The royals were all in black, save for Daenerys who had chosen to wear a blood red gown. She had to admit that the silver haired princess made the color look fierce. They made their way to the throne room to bear witness to the confession. She noticed about half way down the final corridor that there seemed to be more guards then usual, and that she didn’t recognize them.

“Who else is here?” She questioned as she passed a guard in black armor that definitely did not belong to the royal guard.

“Robb! Sansa!” Came an excited voice from near the throne room entrance. She squinted, wondering if she were seeing things. But she wasn’t, it was her sister. She was dressed in a very Baratheon colored gown of gold and black. It was far more ornate then anything Arya had worn in the Stormlands months ago. Gendry matched in his own manner of dress. 

“Arya!” Decorum be damned, she thought as she raced to hug her sister. She wrapped her up tightly, “It is so good to see you” She told her honestly.

“Agreed” Arya mumbled against the fabric of her gown. She had squished her. She pulled back and looked her sister over. She looked the same, but happier. She was tanner as well, “Are you not going to greet me, Robb?” She questioned.

“I was patiently awaiting my turn,” Robb replied before stepping forward to hug her as well.

‘Carefully!” She admonished before Arya gripped him too tight.

“Little scrape, nothing major” Robb assured her as he tugged her to his uninjured side. Content that he wasn’t going to pull a stitch or anything, she turned to greet Gendry. When everyone had greeted each other, Aegon finally questioned their presence.

“Your father wrote to mine about needing the presence of a Stormland noble for a trial. Arya wished to see her siblings, so I volunteered,” Gendry answered, “Though my father was rather mum about what the trial was on,”

“We were attacked while hunting in the Antlers. Tis Lord Buckwell’s trial,” Jon answered, “I wonder if father invited someone from every kingdom,”

“He has the North covered, and Dorne with Prince Oberyn and Quentin’s arrival,” The Dornish princes had arrived last night under the guise of wedding planning, but everyone knew it was because of the Brotherhood. Oberyn carried a larger grudge then the King himself when it came to ending the Brotherhood, or so everyone said.

“Lord Arryn has arrived from the Vale as well,” She had nearly forgotten that he was the Hand of the King in this realm as well. It was a newly appointed position for the man after Lord Connington had retired due to old age and chronic illness. The man had not yet taken residence in the Tower of the Hand for he had business in the Vale to wrap up. She had heard that Lady Lysa and the children were staying in the Vale for the time being, which brought her comfort.

‘The Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the Reach then” Daenerys murmured, “I am sure Lord Tyrion is sulking about somewhere. He was due to arrive for the festival, as were several other parties from the neighboring lands,”

“We shall just have to see,” Aegon murmured, “We are being motioned along by Ser Gerold,” Sure enough the knight was gesturing wildly for them to move along. They fell into line, heading to the throne room. The three Targaryen’s continued to the platform where Viserys stood waiting, while they stayed in the crowd. She noticed Lord Arryn and the Dornish princes. The three were speaking to each other quietly. Lord Arryn looked up when they entered. He gestured Robb and Gendry over. She and Arya knew better than to think the men would want a female presence.

“Go, we’ll be fine,” Arya told Gendry, “I have Sansa. She’s a pro at court life, I won’t embarrass the Baratheon name,” She teased. Gendry nodded and kissed her cheek before leaving with Robb.

“You seem happy,” She commented.

‘I am happy,” Arya grinned slightly, “And you?”

“I am enjoying my time in the capital city immensely,” She told her, “Minus the attack part,”

“Tell me, what happened?" 

“They were attacked in the middle of the night. From the way I heard it from Robb and Jon, Jon awoke first, noticing that Ghost was astray. He woke Robb, asking where Greywind was. The attackers had killed dozens of stags in preparation, then lured the wolves away with the prize. A second after Robb and Jon realized it was a setup, flaming arrows were coming at them. Robb took one to the side. It was a clean shot through the flab of his stomach. Jon went to check on him, only to be sliced by the eye. The guards captured those they could but most died. Lord Buckwell was taken in to question due to the strange circumstances of the attack," 

“And they think it was the Brotherhood?” Arya whispered, “The ones that were responsible for the death of Princess Elia?” 

“The arrow I pulled from Robb, it had “slay the dragons” carved into the shaft, which is apparently the Brotherhood’s battle cry. You should have seen the King’s face when he saw it, Arya. It haunted him,”

“And no one else was injured?”

“No, just our idiot brother and Jon”

“Both idiots” Arya grumbled, “Did you say you pulled the arrow from Robb?” She questioned, looking alarmed.

“I did. I dreamt of the attack, Arya. Like a wolf dream. As soon as I knew they were in the castle, I barged into the King’s solar” She whispered, laughing a bit as she thought of the absurdity of it all. She was in her nightgown still.

“I would’ve done the same thing” Arya replied with a succinct nod, “What do you think the King has called us all here for though? Why does he need the entire realm?”

“Because Lord Buckwell is a well respected noble. He comes from a long, old line. The accusation against him is high treason, twice over. He conspired to have the royal family killed and he did so with the Brotherhood, who Prince Rhaegar outlawed years ago. By having us here, it sends a strong message to anyone who is thinking of questioning his reign,” She whispered again, watching as another person entered the hall. She would have recognized the stunted height anywhere, “Tyrion Lannister” She murmured, watching as he limped in on his uneven legs. He was without the gnarly facial scar in this realm, but still as equally unappealing to look at. She wondered at the title he held here in court. If Baelish was Master of Coin, what was Tyrion?

“Ladies” He nodded as he passed them.

“Lord Tyrion” She spoke as the two of them curtsied slightly. He kept going though, headed to where the rest of the men were standing, waiting for the show to start. She glanced back to the throne. Viserys was sulking as he stood next to Daenerys on the left of the King’s throne. Jon and Aegon stood on the right. All four of the Royals stood quite still, simply watching the hall.

‘Was father alerted to the attack?” Arya questioned after a moment of silence fell between them. 

“Yes, though I doubt it has even reached him yet” She answered. It took a little over a sennight to send a raven to the North. It took a little over a day to send one anywhere else, “When did the Stormlands get their raven?”

“Three days ago. We were planning on leaving for the festival in a few days’ time anyway,” Arya shrugged, “It takes so little time to get here. We would have spent weeks traveling from the North,”  The King must have called for them in anticipation of a confession. 

“How long do you plan to stay?” She questioned. She hadn’t even known Arya was coming for the festival. 

“A fortnight” Arya replied. The festival was set to begin in four days’ time, so they would have plenty of time together. Luckily the king had been persuaded against canceling the festival, and was instead beefing up security, “Is that a Tyrell?” She questioned. She turned to see a man in green entering the throne room. When he was closer, she named him easily. Lord Willas Tyrell.

“Willas Tyrell” She told Arya quietly, “Tis funny that majority of the representation are the heirs to the regions, not the high Lord’s themselves,” She observed, save for the Vale and the West. The Vale was easy; Lord Robert wasn’t old enough yet. She wondered at the West and if King Rhaegar had asked for heirs.

“The King probably has something in mind then” Arya nodded, “Look, isn’t that Uncle Edmure?” Sure enough, their red-headed uncle was making his way into the throne room, dressed in the navy and red of House Tully. He went straight to the other men. That was all of them then. 

The herald announced the arrival of the King and Queen then. They both came through the back door that Viserys had used. Queen Lyanna took her place on the left of the throne, in front of Viserys. King Rhaegar stood in front of the throne. Everyone knelt.

“Rise” He called, “I welcome those that have just arrived in the Capital, and apologize for bringing such dark matters to hand when the city should be celebrating the autumn solstice. As many may have noticed, I have called a majority of the sons and the heirs of the Great Houses to this trial for you are the ones that will someday represent your great lands. Your fathers, the High Lords of the Great Houses, have already done their part in this war against this enemy. They have sworn themselves to the fight against the Brotherhood, and now so too will you,” The King sat upon the throne, “I am to blame for this attack. My own banner man, a man I thought loyal to the death, has betrayed me. He has begged to confess his sins, to be set on the path of righteousness.  I have agreed to let him speak his case, and then you, the future lords of this great kingdom, will be the ones to decide his fate. Guards,” He motioned to the front where the guards stood.

The great doors opened and Ser Barristan and Ser Brandon escorted Lord Buckwell into the court room. He was dressed as befit his station, fine fitting clothing of velvet and silk. His shoes shined brightly. His hair was neatly combed back as he held his head high. She commended his bravo. If it weren’t for the tremor in his hand, she would have never seen his terror. The two guards let him go roughly, and he fell into a kneel. 

“Rise,” The King demanded. The man pulled himself shakily up onto his feet, “Alistair Buckwell, you stand before us today accused of high treason on two accounts. You stand accused of consorting with the Brotherhood, and conspiring with them to lure us into the woods for the sole purpose of slaughtering myself, my sons, and my brother. What say you on the matter?”

“Aye, I did all that, your Grace” Lord Buckwell nodded, “I conspired with the Brotherhood. I invited you on the hunting trip on behest of the Brotherhood. I had Brotherhood members disguised as my men. I did so with the knowledge of knowing that they wanted you dead,”

“You do not deny your guilt?”

‘No, your Grace” Lord Buckwell shook his head, “I am guilty, but my family is not. They were innocent of the whole thing. The Brotherhood took my middle children, my four little girls. I had to lie to my wife, tell her that I sent them away for the moon so that we’d have room for your men. My daughters, my wife, my son, they were innocent in it all,”

“It is not up to me to decide your fate, Alistair Buckwell. My stance on the Brotherhood is well known in this kingdom, and the punishment is death. You are being given a potential gift in that I am allowing my sons, who you conspired to kill, decide your fate. I am giving the realm’s sons the choice to make. But I want you to remember something. The Brotherhood took my first wife, an innocent woman who had done nothing to them, and nearly my daughter when they killed Princess Elia. And then you tried to take my life, and my sons’, and my brother’s. They are innocent in it all too, and yet you would have taken their lives,” King Rhaegar trailed out, his voice a quiet whisper. It was worse than yelling. It sent shivers down her spine, “He has confessed, we need no more evidence. So to put it to a vote. Aegon, what say you?”

“Guilty” Aegon answered calmly, “Brother?”

“Guilty” Jon echoed, “Lord Stark?”

“Guilty” Robb replied, looking to the man on his side, “Lord Baratheon?”

They went down the line, each Lord coming to the same conclusion, guilty. Prince Quentin spoke instead of Prince Oberyn. She had been wondering which would get the honor. No one even hesitated. Lord Buckwell had confessed after all.

“Your guilt was never in doubt. Your punishment though, that is the real reason we are all here,” King Rhaegar told him, “I would call for your death,” He mentioned it like he was talking of the weather, “Aegon?”

“Death” Aegon replied easily, “Jaemon?”

“The Wall” Jon answered, “Or Death” 

“The Wall or death are your choices at the moment. Does anyone wish to add another option to that?” King Rhaegar looked to the others.

“Trial by combat,” Oberyn answered, revealing why he was really there.

“There, you have three options, Lord Buckwell. Chose,” King Rhaegar demanded.

“My family, my children, your Grace?” He questioned instead.

 

“Your son will be sent to Dorne as a ward of Prince Doran. Your daughters will be divided and sent to be ladies maids. Your good father has offered to take your wife back into her family home in the Reach. He has paid a hefty sum to the crown. Your lands and your title and your wealth will be given away as I see fit. Your family name shall be held in contempt for centuries because of your shame. Antlers shall no longer be held by House Buckwell for the first time since Aegon's Conquering. But no harm or death will come to your blood at my hand, not for your sins at least,”

“Thank you,” Buckwell sighed, “I chose death,”

“Death it is,” King Rhaegar stood, “You have hereby been sentenced to die tomorrow at noon in front of the Sept of Baelor. Guards, bring him to the Black Cells,” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was rather dull. King Rhaegar still had not lifted their outside of the castle wall ban, and the men were holed up together in the small council chamber with Daenerys and the Queen. She and Arya were the only two that seemed to be free.

She gave her sister a half- assed tour of the castle and the gardens before they took lunch in the little garden alcove. Arya told her all about Stormsend and how easy it was to fill the role of the Lady of the castle when it had been Robert for the past decade.  Apparently, the Baratheon men were none too concerned about her acting like a proper lady, and dinners and events had been quite informal ever since. She even was allowed to go on a hunting trip with the Baratheon’s and a few of their bannermen, and Gendry had been gifting her individual pieces of armor for the past few weeks, working up to a full set. She loved her new home, but she was homesick for the chill of winter and the smell of fresh snow.

 

She told her of her time here, and how she was becoming good friends with Princess Daenerys and Princess Arianne. She told her how Aegon was constantly teasing, and how thankfully, Viserys was barely seen. The wedding was brought up, and it was revealed that Gendry and Arya would be returning to the capital city for that event as well, a moon’s turn after their return to the Stormlands. Arya was, of course, thrilled to be traveling so much. She told her of the Queen and her chilly attitude. Arya assured her that she would warm up and that all would be well. Her Aunt loved Arya, so Arya had known nothing but kindness and warmth from the woman. Arya was eager to know how things were going with Jon in particular. For once, her sister was acting like a lady with her enthusiasm. Arya was very excited at the thought of having another Stark so close by if she were to marry Jon.

“You approve then?” She questioned. She had wondered about it for awhile. Arya of old would have never approved. But of course, Arya of old had thought them siblings, not cousins. This Arya was still very close to Jon though. She valued her approval.

“Of course I approve,” Arya told her, looking dumbfounded, “Had you asked me that a few moons ago, I might not have but you are different Sansa. Everyone sees that. I can speak with the Queen of it if you wish,”

“No, no” She shook her head softly, “It is no matter to concern yourself over. I have a plan to make her see that I am worthy of her son,” She assured her 

“She will see,” Arya echoed, “Now, tell me about Jon. Robb says he’s been making a lady of himself trying to woo you,”

“He has not!” She laughed at the idea of Robb and Arya exchanging letters about her love life, “He has been a proper gentleman. He gives me a new flower each day, each one with a different meaning. I have quite the bouquet,” She told her sister.

“That is sweet,” Arya told her with a smile, “Have you figured out how to slip your guard yet? Or is prim princess Sansa too proper to do that?” She questioned, eyes bright with mischief.

“We sneak out past sunset to the Godswood. There is a shaded alcove there that provides privacy,” She admitted to her sister. It was the type of thing she had always wanted to do with a sister, share secrets and giggle over boys, “It is not like any of the Targaryen’s are terribly watchful chaperones though. I think it is Daenerys and Aegon’s goal to give us as much privacy as possible. Even Robb allowed us alone time after the attack,”

“Alone time, eh?” Arya nudged her ribs playfully, “That does not sound proper, Lady Sansa,”

“It is!” She pouted, “He barely kisses me without feeling like he’s shamed me and our entire line” She complained, “Just the other day he ran from the Godswood and skipped dinner over it. He can be quite dramatic”

“Of course he did, it’s Jon,” Arya was laughing in true now, clutching her sides, “Gods, I wish I had seen that,”

“Stop laughing” She pouted again, “This shouldn’t be the case, we should be reversed. I’m the elder one," 

“Aye, but I’m the married one,” Arya’s laughter tapered off until she was just smiling and shaking her head, “I can’t believe we’re sitting in a garden with goblets of wine talking about boys and kissing,” She shook her head again. 

“I always wanted to sit in a garden and talk boys and kissing while sipping wine, sister. It was you that never wanted to,” She pointed out, “Speaking of boys and kissing, how fares the marriage bed? Is Lord Gendry as skilled with his hammer under the sheets as he is in the forge?” Her words were crude and not something she should know about anyways, but it was worth the flush of red that spread from Arya’s cheeks down her neck.

“Sansa!” She gaped.

“I am just jesting, you need not tell me how he really is,” She replied with a shrug.

“I, I can’t even-” Arya was tongue tied, “How do you even know of these things? You’re not married,”

“I’m not deaf, dumb, or blind either” She told her, “Honestly, Arya, we grew up with farm animals, we have an extensive library, and between Theon and Robb, eavesdropping on conversations was always a wealth of knowledge,” She lied easily, “Besides, Princesses Arianne and Daenerys are a good source of info as well. You should hear what the Dornish consider polite conversation,” 

“They are both unmarried too,” Arya protested.

“The Dornish do not care for those things, Arya. And Daenerys, well, she’s a princess. One cannot tell her what to do,” 

“We are not talking about this” Arya told her finally, “Kissing, fine. Courtships, fine. But this? No” 

“Oh, who knew Lady Arya would be so prim and proper?” She teased, throwing her words back at her easily. Arya groaned and buried her head in her hands. She honestly wanted to do the same. Coming from a realm where she and Jon had had no physical boundaries, it was hard. She wanted nothing more than to push him against the wall, undo his breeches, and wrap her mouth around his sizable cock. She wondered if it were the same as it was in the past realm. She wanted him to ruck up her skirts, rip off her undergarments, and press his mouth against her folds, lapping obscenely at her juices like he had done in the past. She knew, from him, how to please herself but it wasn’t the same. The more she used her own hands, the more she wished for his. Talking with Arya just made her want him more, so she used Arya’s reluctance to change the topic, “But I suppose I shall be kind and change the subject. Tell me more of your trip to the Sapphire Isles,”

* * *

She did not see Jon again until the next day when they were all breaking their fast. King Rhaegar had invited them to the smaller dining hall, along with the other heirs and Lords. The Queen was not there. Her brother sat with their uncle, speaking quietly. She took the empty seat next to him, beside her sister who was speaking with Gendry. Everyone seemed to wear their house colors. She wore a dove gray gown, simple and understated. Arya wore gray as well, though hers was a dark charcoal color. These were the future leaders of her realm, men that would be wardens and lords, bannermen to King Aegon when King Rhaegar passed on the crown. They all seemed so young and carefree. 

The King welcomed everyone again and went over the plan for the day. Apparently, the castle had leaked the story of the attack for publicities sake, and they expected a large crowd to witness the execution. The King had decided on beheading instead of death by fire because there was not feast enough for several hungry dragons. It was strange reasoning, but all accepted it. Lord Willas and her own uncle looked green at the thought of a dragon roasting. She had a feeling that there had been mass dragon deaths in the past, like a spring cleaning of the Black Cells.

“Aegon, you will read the charges against him. Jon, you will announce the verdict. Payne will be the executioner today-” 

“No” She hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, but her voice echoed. King Rhaegar stopped in the middle of his sentence to look at her.

“Pardon, Lady Sansa?” He questioned curiously. She froze, a blush staining her cheeks. She had said no in regards to her fear of Payne and his murder of her father in the past realm. She wasn’t objecting to the King’s plan which is apparently what he thought.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, your Grace,” She told him, the only thing that she could come up with, “If the one that passes the sentence cannot swing the sword, then perhaps the man did not deserve to die,” 

“It is an old saying that we take as law in the North,” Robb told the King, “I will do it if you’ll allow me, your Grace,”

“Are you certain, Lord Robb?” The King questioned.

“Yes, your Grace” Robb nodded, “It is the honorable thing to do,”

“As you were involved in the attack, I see no reason not to let you. I will tell Payne he is no longer needed,” King Rhaegar nodded, and the breakfast feast commenced. Both of her siblings gave her incredulous stares but did not bring it up in the company of others. Lord Tyrion, who sat diagonal from her, had no such qualms.

“That was a very interesting interruption, Lady Sansa, quite bold of you,” He commented from across the table, sipping from his wine at such an early hour, “You must take honor very seriously, just like your father,” 

“My father is an honorable man. I would be lucky to have half the honor he does, Lord Tyrion,” She answered truthfully.

“Yes, you Stark’s and your honor, a tight bond” Tyrion grinned, “Tell me, if you had been the one to sentence him, would you have wielded the sword?”

“Lord Tyrion” Her uncle Edmure spoke up for her, but she waved him off. 

‘If I were to sentence a man to death then yes, I would owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his last words. If I found myself unable to bear it then perhaps that man did not deserve to die at all,” She answered, “But I am a mere lady, Lord Tyrion, I have no power in sentencing a man to death,”

“Oh, I never discount another based solely on their gender, Lady Sansa,” Tyrion answered with a smirk, “I daresay Oberyn would have volunteered if he knew that was an option though,” Lord Tyrion continued with a shrug, the conversation dying thereafter.

 She ignored her siblings until it was time to leave. The Targaryen’s left the rest of the group, along with Robb who thanks to her now had to take a man’s life. No doubt he would speak to her after. They would follow after with the Kingsguard. For now, the other men, she, and Arya would make their way to the Sept alone. Uncle Edmure offered her his arm as they walked.

“I know that wolf of yours is a capable escort, but it would be criminal to leave my beautiful young niece at the mercy of a Tyrell and two Dornish princes” Edmure commented as he tucked her hand into his arm. Lady was walking dutifully beside her. She had not seen Nymeria yet. She would have to ask of her presence.

“Lady is more than capable, uncle, though I thank you,” She told him. 

“I think what you said was admirable, niece, if not a bit rash,” He complimented her as they walked out of the castle. She had been stuck in side for the past five days. There was only so much of the gardens one could take without developing sneezes and itchy eyes.

“I did not mean to sound so impolite, but my father has instilled that lesson upon us, I could not help it,” She told him as they walked.

“King Rhaegar did not seem to mind. I would not worry yourself over it. Your father would be proud, I daresay,” Edmure confided with a grin, “And your mother, well, let us hope she does not hear of it,” Edmure Tully was a wild card. She knew that he had a distaste for responsibility and duty, but he seemed like a fun fellow.

He smiled easily and told her stories of the improper things her mother had once done as a girl her age. Of course, her mother had married shortly after her ten and seventh name day, but Edmure still had dozens of good stories. The trouble that her mother, Edmure, and Lysa had gotten into was hilarious. Often times it involved jumping into the river to hide from Grandfather Hoster’s guards or their septa. Riverrun was another place that she would not mind seeing more of in this realm. The beautiful river castle was all but a shell of its former glory when she saw it last. 

The streets were lined with guards and citizens that watched in rapture as they traversed the city. Lady left her side, darting down an empty alley way when she had the chance. Her wolf disliked crowds. She had faith that she would find her again later. Word had finally leaked of the attack, and of Lord Buckwell’s position, hence the large crowds. King Rhaegar would make the final denouncement of the crimes at the Sept.  A few people called out to those they recognized, like Lord Tyrion and Lord Arryn. A few even seemed to recognize the Dornish duo, and Gendry and Arya. No one seemed to know her or care who she was. On the arm of her uncle, she no doubt blended in. They probably thought her a Tully. Her last romp through the capital had ended in horror, but there were no insults being thrown at them, or other undesirable objects. Instead, the people called for the head of the traitor, and long live the Targaryen’s. They called for them to stone him dead and feed him to the dragons. The wished health to the royal family. They threw flowers, bright red blooms, and dark dragon lilies. Her uncle kept her in the middle of the path, putting himself nearer to the crowds. Arya stood in the same position with Gendry. Stray hands bounced off of her uncle, never touching her.

It took very little time to get through the city and to the Sept. When they did reach the erected platform, her uncle led her up and to the side. She stood closer to the wedge and the thrones than the rest of them. She had an awful moment of panic when she recalled the last time she stood on a similar platform with a similar gathering, but it disappeared when she heard the sounds of hooves against the stone.

The Targaryen’s arrived on horseback. There were five in total, splendid dark stallions that looked nearly as wild as the dragons, who were let loose above, screeching and flaming high above the crowds. The King and Queen had ridden together, as had Dany and Aegon. Viserys, Jon, and Robb got their own horses. Once they had dismounted, the horses were led away by guards, and the royals plus Robb took to the stage. She noted the wolves, only the three, sneak behind the platform. They aligned themselves with the guards, who made no notion of noticing them. They must be accustomed to Ghost after all. It made her feel better about standing on nearly the same stage for a beheading in the capital to have Lady so close. 

People flooded the area now that the guards backed away, everyone clambering to the front to watch the gory show up close. She turned away from the wolves and focused on the people. They seemed fatter and cleaner than the citizens she had known of in the past. They seemed content. King Rhaegar stepped forward and raised his hand. The noise dulled before tapering off completely.

“Today we execute traitors to the crown,” He announced, his usual quiet, calm voice replaced with a sonorous boom, “Alistair Buckwell, former lord of the Antler’s has confessed to consorting with the Brotherhood and conspiring to kill myself, my brother, and my two sons. They succeeding in causing injury to my younger son, Prince Jaemon and my Queen’s nephew, Lord Robb of House Stark” He let that sick in, and the crowd booed and called for his death, “In addition to Alistair Buckwell, we have two sell swords who were captured in the attack and bear the mark of the Brotherhood, of which it is treason to have. They too have been sentenced to death,” Again, the crowd called for their heads, “Guards, bring them forth,’ King Rhaegar called, and then he sat, the Queen following suit. Viserys and Daenerys stood on either side of the throne.

“Niece” Ser Brandon was behind her, passing her a sword in a leather scabbard. She did not recognize the sword, but it looked like Valyrian steel. It had no other special adornments though to identify it, “The Queen asked that you present the sword to your brother,” He told her. 

“Of course’ She nodded, taking the light package from him. Valyrian steel was always lighter then traditional steel. She wiped her face clean of emotion, her mask of indifference slipping into place easily. The Queen was clearly trying to prove something here. Perhaps she thought she would shirk in the face of death. She did not fear death though. She had learned that lesson long ago.

The prisoners had been led onto the platform while Ser Brandon had been talking with her. By now all three were aligned and awaiting their fate. Robb and Jon stood together to the left, while Aegon was to the right.

“Alistair Buckwell, you stand accused of consorting with the Brotherhood and conspiring against the royal family with said Brotherhood to bring death to myself, my father, my brother and my uncle,” Aegon read from the scroll of indictments, his voice pure steel. There was no teasing lilt or joyous undertone to his words, something she had never heard him without, “What say you on the matter?”

“I am guilty, your Grace” Buckwell called. The crowd booed and yelled colorful insults at him. Buckwell did not hang his head in shame though. She gave him credit for that. He was walking towards death with his head held high.

“Harold of Harlow and Lyonel of Lemmock, you both stand accused of being members of the Brotherhood, which is an act of treason against the crown. What say you?” 

“Slay the dragons” The older looking one hissed, “Kill them all,” The other one said nothing, simply hung his head. She thought he was crying. The crowd gasped at his blatant alliance to the Brotherhood. No one dared speak those words in the capital city. Aegon waited another moment before giving up on getting words out of one crying.

“All three of you have been found guilty of treason for which the punishment is a choice of three, death, the Wall, or trial by combat. You have already chosen one, but we are merciful and offer those choices again.  Shall any of you call for a trial by combat or commit your life to the Wall?” Jon questioned, looking all three of them over carefully. He sounded solemn, a little quieter than his father and Aegon, but no less commanding. Where Aegon's voice held anger, Jon's was controlled. None of the men spoke, “Then death it is”

The crowd cheered at his announcement. She looked out into them, wondering why they cheered for death. It was the same as when they had taken her father’s head. Except she wasn’t fighting against the Hound this time. She was the one presenting the sword to take their lives. They had nearly killed her brother, she told herself as she stepped up to Robb with the blade. Unlike the crowd, the faces of those on the platform were grim. No one smiled at the deed about to be done. No one palmed their breeches as Joffrey had done. Death was not exciting.   

“Alistair Buckwell, step forth” Jon called. The man stood tall and walked over to the wedge. It was caked in the blood of those that died before him. He sank to his knees, placing his head in the crevice. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“Do you have any last words?” Robb questioned, his voice not carrying like the others had. He was speaking quietly on purpose. Executions in the North were not done for the sport. Robb probably found this all quite base and demeaning. 

‘I did it for my family, and I would do it again so that they would live,” The man murmured, eyes still closed. She noticed that he clutched a small seven pointed star in his grasp. She wondered if he knew that the Gods would not save him, “Do not let them die,”

“They will live long lives, Alistair Buckwell” Robb told him quietly. He straightened and addressed the crowd, “In the name of Rhaegar of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, I, Lord Robb of House Stark, son of Lord Eddard, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, sentence you to die,” 

She offered the scabbard, and he pulled forth the blade. It shimmered like a thousand jewels in the morning sun. He stepped back and schooled his features, though she could still see the emotion behind his blue eyes. He did it though. He swung the sword in a perfect arc, and with just the right amount of force, the head was cleanly cut. Blood splattered, spraying the skirts of her gown with red mist.

The crowd cheered as his head rolled. A few people got a few kicks in before a guard grabbed it back, and the body and the head were removed from the platform. The two Brotherhood members were next. Ser Barristan lifted the younger one from where he had sagged to the ground, sobbing now. He was placed on the wedge and offered last words. The man sobbed through them. He couldn’t have been older than Robb or Jon. He was still so young. But the tattoo on his neck, the words “slay the dragons” with a bloody blade, they chilled her. It looked well healed too, so not a recent thing.

This time, Robb offered no consoling words. He nodded, spoke in the name of the King, then swung the sword. Again, blood splattered against her skirts, the crowd cheered, and the head was left to be kicked by the crowd while the body was hauled away.

It took two guards to get the older one, hauling him to his feet when he refused. He was wily, fighting against them. Ser Gerold looked bored as he wrangled the man, while Ser Whent looked ready to kill the man himself.  

“Settle down, Harold” Ser Gerold grumbled as he forced the man to kneel. He too deflated once his head hit the stump. Ser Gerold stepped away cautiously.

“Any last words?” Robb questioned for the third time that day.

“The dragons can’t swing their own sword, boy?” Harold cackled, “Not Payne, but still not a dragon. Pretty boys can’t kill me themselves?” Whatever Harold was hoping for, he got it. Jon stepped forward and held out his hand for the hilt. Robb passed it over without complaint. The crowd actually cheered at the change. They switched places, Robb taking his stance on the other side, Jon stepping closer to her. The crowd watched like it was some sort of show, “Me arrow marred that pretty visage I see” The man laughed again.

“I’ll live” Jon replied shortly, “Unlike you. Have you said your piece?”

“Aye, I’m finished” Harlow grinned, settling into the wedge like he was a king settling into his throne. He was still grinning that awful toothless decayed grin when Jon began to speak.

“In the name of Rhaegar of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoy-” In a flash, Harold had kicked out his legs, aiming for Jon while pulling a knife from his boot. The old man was deceptively quick, she saw the flash of the dagger. But Lady was quicker. Before even the knights could pounce, her wolf was on the man, paws against his chest as she pinned him down, snarling. Ser Gerold pulled Jon behind him, Ghost pressed to his side now that Lady had neutralized the threat. She glanced around and noted that the rest of the white cloaks had descended on the Royals. The crowd had gone silent in surprise and fear.

Harold shook in fear as the wolf snarled down at him, drool dripping from her jaw full of sharp, jagged teeth. Lady kept her paws on his chest as she turned her head to her, waiting for a command. The crowd held their breath.

“Hand” She murmured, quiet enough for the wolf to hear but not so loud that anyone else would. Without further command, Lady bit into his wrist, removing the entire hand as well as the knife clutched within it. Harold howled in pain as the crowd gasped in fear. A few had stepped away from the platform, furthering themselves from the wolves.

Ser Gerold moved first. He approached the man and Lady stepped away, knowing that Ser Gerold was a friend. Her wolf went to her, wagging her tail like a pup, depositing the hand and the knife into her waiting hands. She scratched her ears, letting her nuzzle into her side, staining her gown even further with her bloody muzzle. She separated the knife from the hand and gave the flesh to the wolf. Lady happily bit into it, lying down at her feet.

The Knight hauled Harold back to the stump. He did not fight this time, not with Lady snarling at him from her spot at her skirts with a mouthful of his old hand. Her beautiful gray fur would need a washing after this. Ser Gerold motioned for Jon to continue. There was a moment when she feared he was too shaken up to go through with it, but like Robb, he managed to wipe all trace of emotion from his face.

“I, Prince Jaemon Daeron Targaryen sentence you to death” He called out, then cleanly cut through the neck of Harold of Harlow, and the man was no more. Blood sprayed, and this time, she felt it coat her cheek. Harold of Harlow was turning out to be quite the pain in her arse. Even Ser Gerold was sprayed with red, his white cloak now spotted. He looked disgusted at the turn of events.

The crowd did not cheer. Their joy was gone, replaced with fear and uncertainty. King Rhaegar stepped forward to address them.

“Let this be a reminder for all those who dare rise against us,” He called out to the crowd, “The crown is merciful but just. Today, justice was served. Let us celebrate our fine kingdom, and continue to prepare for the upcoming autumn festival, which shall be the greatest of its time. I thank you all for gathering here today to see justice served. Peace and happiness to all,” He ended with, arms wide open to the crowd. They livened up then, calling out to them happily for long lives, peace, and happiness to the crown.

“Niece” Ser Brandon held out his hand for the scabbard. She passed it to him, and then Jon passed him the blood soaked blade, “The dagger?” Ser Brandon questioned. She had tucked it into her skirts. She sighed and passed that over as well. It was a short, tiny thing. It would have been easy to conceal in her skirts. But she supposed they had to investigate it further. Harold hadn’t gotten the knife out of thin air. Someone had given it to him, a traitor of some sort.

“Lady Sansa, ride back with one of us,” King Rhaegar told her not unkindly, “You’re covered in blood,” She was indeed.

“Here, take this” Jon offered her his black cloak. She took it without complaint, covering the red stained silk from sight.

“You can share with me, sister” Robb told her, taking her arm and leading her to the horses.  Jon followed behind them. She could feel his presence. She wished to ride with him, but that would be improper. She allowed Robb to help her up into the saddle. She did not bother with side saddle. The Queen and Daenerys had both ridden normally. Her dress had enough give to allow her to do so comfortably. Robb pulled himself up behind her, and they took off. They were in the back beside Jon, the guards boxing them in. She had no idea where Arya or her uncle had gotten to.

“I am sorry that I forced you into volunteering to take two lives,” She told Robb quietly as they made their way towards the Red Keep. Again, everyone cheered as they passed.

“You did not force me into it. You had the right of it,” Robb told her, “Although calling out the King would not have been my first move,”

“It just slipped out” She shrugged, grinning slightly, “I suppose I got my punishment though. This dress is completely ruined,” Robb snorted, covering his laughter with his hand.

“Sansa, I cannot be laughing after having just executed two men. The people will think I’m mad” He whispered, “Do not be such a lady, it’s just a gown,”

“It was my favorite gown,” She harrumphed. It was one of her best gowns. The blood would probably never be removed completely.

“I’ll buy you another one, a better one” Robb promised as they approached the castle gates, which were slowly being opened. She could hear them creaking. Once through, they made straight to the front hall, instead of the stables. The King was leading the way though, they just followed. When the reached the doors to the main castle, they stopped. Jon had hopped down before her, so with his aid and Robb’s, though she needed neither, she was removed from the saddle. Removed as in she barely did any work, Robb and Jon basically lifted her. King Rhaegar said nothing before calling for Ser Gerold, Barristan, and Brandon. He swept into the castle with the three, leaving the rest of them to watch him go. The Queen sighed softly, looking almost wistfully at her husband’s retreating form.

“Stay in the castle and stay out of trouble,” She told them shortly before she too disappeared into the castle. Viserys scowled and followed her. That left the five of them standing in the front entrance. She, Robb, and Jon were covered in blood.

“Well, I think some of you need to bathe after the events of today” Daenerys announced when no one else spoke, rubbing her hands together grimly, “Sansa, come, I will help you get the blood from that gown. I know a trick or two. We should have dinner in the small dining room with our younger guests tonight. I will make the announcements, yes?” The princess questioned.

“Yes,” Jon agreed with her when no one else did, “Thank you, Dany,”

“It was a long morning. I think we all could use a little alone time,” The silver haired girl replied easily, “Come on, Lady Sansa. I know just the thing,”

“Your Graces, Robb” She curtsied in farewell before Daenerys pulled her from their presence.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? It's a miracle, y'all. I've been inspired by the roller coaster that this season is, and could not wait to update this. Thank you again for your kind words!

Blood free and smelling of spices once more, she sat in the Godswood, hoping that Jon would arrive at some point. She chose a soft yellow gown for the night, something so very far from the color of blood that no one would associate it with death or the events of the morning. Her hair was pulled back into a million pins, high off of her neck. She had begged alone time from Daenerys after the girl had helped her wash away the blood from her skin and gown. The silver haired princess was more than understanding. She had the feeling that Dany had seen some things in Essos on her vacation all those moons ago. She was far too skilled at removing blood from silk. She made a mental note to ask her about it at some point. They had never brought it up before.

She had brought a book to read while she waited for Jon. She was nearly done with it, which meant she would have to track down Haldon soon. She was using Jon’s cloak as a blanket, and as it grew later and he still did not appear, her eyes grew heavy. She slowly got lower and lower as she read until she was lying on her side, struggling to focus on the words before her. 

A soft hand jostled her awake. It was dark now, much darker than it had been a second ago. She could not even see her book anymore. It was way past sunset, that was for sure. She must have fallen asleep while reading. She looked back to the person who had woken her. Jon. 

“How long have you been here?” He questioned softly, his hand still resting on her shoulder.

“I was reading, must have dozed off” She murmured. She sat up straighter, picking up her book. Her page was lost. 

“I’m sorry I did not come sooner. Father convened a council,” He stated simply.

“Because of the knife?” She questioned. Jon nodded, “A traitor in the castle?” She guessed. She had known the second he drew the knife that someone had betrayed them. It was a frightening thought. 

“Yes, unfortunately so” Jon leaned back against the tree and pulled her against his chest. She relaxed against him, letting his warmth and clean scent permeate her senses, lulling her back into a sleepy state, “Do not fall asleep on me, Sansa” He murmured, rubbing his hand down her arm and back up. He had been far more liberal in his touches and kisses over the past nine days. Gentle caresses and soft embraces were becoming everyday occurrences.  Usually, she leaned against him as one of them read aloud to the other.

“I am sleepy’ She murmured, “It was a long day,” 

“Aye, it was” Jon nodded, “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” She questioned in confusion, “Why would I not be?”

“You were very close to the attack and you were sprayed with a copious amount of blood. It would be understandable to be shaken by it,” He told her logically, “I have seen my fair share of ladies’ faint at executions or at the sight of blood,” 

“You took a life. Are you shaken by that?” She countered, not having the energy to explain that she was not frightened by blood or death, or to lie straight about it. She was too tired for that at the moment.

“I thought I would be, but I am not. He was a part of the original attack that could have easily killed both Robme and I had those arrows been true. He then tried to pull a knife on the platform. Anyone could have been injured by that. Yourself included,” Jon tightened his grip on her slightly, “I wanted to take his life after that. Is that terrible of me?” 

“No, it is not so terrible” She shook her head, “But it was not I that he was aiming for, Jon. He wanted you. He had you switch places with Robb so that you were on his swinging side,”

“I know” Jon whispered.

“What do you know of the Brotherhood?” She questioned softly, “Are they a threat to us here?” They were an unknown to her. She did not like having unknowns. Knowledge was power, as Baelish used to tell her. 

“I do not know” Jon sighed heavily, “Traditionally they stayed in the Kingswood, hence the name Kingswood Brotherhood. The small, poor villages off of the road would shelter them, hide them. They hit their highest numbers during my grandfather's reign. People were upset with him, and for good reason. He was leading the Crownlands into a downward spiral.  What do you know of the death of Elia of Dorne?” He questioned.

“Just that they were responsible for her death” She answered, hoping he would tell her the entire tale.

“It was shortly after my father’s and Elia of Dorne’s coronation that it was decided the two new leaders would tour the Crownland’s, show that the madness ended with Aerys. They were starting with the South. Rhaenys was with them, but she fell ill shortly after they arrived at Stonedance. They decided that Elia and Rhaenys would return to the castle to see our Maester. Ser Gaunt and Ser Barristan were to escort them,” Jon paused, “They were attacked in the Kingswood. Ser Gaunt took Elia while Barristan took Rhaenys. It is protocol when there is an attack. Separate the royals to lessen the impact of potential deaths,”

“Which is why you were separated in the Antlers,” She reasoned. Jon nodded.

“Aye, each guard has a set royal during outings. Father has two with him at all times,” Jon told her, “Ser Barristan evaded them and managed to return to Stonedance with Rhaenys. Ser Gaunt headed north with Elia, towards the capital. They were both slain violently. When Barristan reached Stonedance, father and the remainder of the guards, along with House Massey’s guard, and House Emmon, and later, House Baratheon and several other Stormland and Crownland houses descended on the woods. They found the bodies of several house guards and Ser Gaunt and Queen Elia. Father declared war on the Brotherhood and began scouring the woods. A few dozen with marks of the Brotherhood were slain, along with several guards. But the leaders, the Smiling Knight and Simon Toyne, evaded him. To this day, we have not been able to capture them,” Jon shook his head, “There have been rumors of them moving from the Kingswood to the Kingsroad, but with the attack on the Antler’s, it seems they do as they please,” 

“Do you believe your father will renew his efforts in putting them down?” She questioned curiously. She knew nothing concrete of this enemy. For all she knew they had been slain in the past realm, but she could not recall the particulars. 

“Yes,” Jon admitted plainly, “But after the festival and the wedding. The realm is at peace, he does not wish to break it prematurely despite his desire to see their end. The city itself has been locked down since the attack, no one in or out unless ordered by the King, in the case of Arya, Gendry, and the others that arrived. The guards are sweeping every corner of the city, anyone with a mark is to be executed without question. When the gates reopen, every single man, woman, and child will be searched to ensure safety, though the Brotherhood has never attacked the city itself, knowing that the dragons are so close here, and that all the guards are ready,”

“Who is your sworn guard?” She questioned curiously.

“Usually Ser Brandon” He answered.

“He is not your mother’s?”

“He was until I was around seven or so and she ordered him to my side,” Jon told her, “He stays with her when I am with father and Aegon and the majority of the guard,”

“And the others?” 

“For an event that requires a majority of us be together and out in the open?” Jon questioned a scenario.

“Like Arya’s wedding” She offered.

“Ser Gerold and Ser Dayne take my father, as Lord Commander and second in Command. Ser Barristan covers Aegon. Ser Whent has Daenerys and Viserys. Ser Ronnet has Rhaenys, hence why you do not see him in the capital. Ser Brandon, me. And mother gets Ser Darry. It only works this well because of the number of us,” Jon explained. 

“Princess Rhaenys will lose her guard when she marries Prince Quentin then,” 

“Yes, but I doubt Oberyn and his daughters are going to let anything happen to her. They are very protective. Oberyn spent nearly five years of his life here after Elia died, and he campaigned voraciously for father to send Aeg and Rhaenys to Sunspear to foster” Jon replied honestly, “The compromise was the betrothal when they were five and six. The two do not share quite the same level of enthusiasm for the match as Oberyn and Doran do, but Rhaenys is happy to go to Dorne where her mother grew up, and Quentin is proud to be able to finally bring a piece of an Aunt he never met to Dorne, and to Oberyn. Rhaenys will be happy in Dorne, and the Martell’s will be happy to have her,”

“Have you been to Dorne?” She questioned, not imagining how Jon would do in the heat of the far south.

“Many a time,” He replied, “It is beautiful, but hot. It does not rain nearly as often down there as it does further north, so everything is dry and sandy,’ He told her, “Like a never ending beach, with no sea in sight,”

 “Are there any places you haven’t been to?” She questioned.

“I have not been to a great many of places, just those that my father thought mattered, Highgarden, Casterly Rock, Old town, the Eyrie,” He listed a few, “If I could, I would want to see more of the Riverlands and the Iron Islands, and more of the North for sure,”

“The North is definitely the best region,” She told him. He laughed. She felt his chest vibrate through her cheek, shaking her.

“I would agree with you, my lady, but the Crownlands are equally as good,” He told her, “They are at a tie,”

“No,” She shook her head, “Trust me on this one, your Grace. You should never disagree with a lady,”

“Well, in that case,” He sighed, “I suppose the North is rather splendid in it’s cold, frozen glory. You have snow during every season, which is quite a feat. And you are nearly half of the landmass of the entire kingdom,” He was teasing her. She pinched his side lightly, causing him to yelp, “Fine, I concede. The North is the best” He told her, dramatically massaging his side, “You injured me, my lady,”

“I am deeply sorry, your Grace” She leaned up so that she could look at him as she apologized, batting her eyelashes at him which only caused him to chuckle. He looked more restless then she first imagined. There was something dark in his eyes, something bothering him. He laughed all the same, caressing her wrist with his thumb at her teasing words, words that chased away an inch of the darkness. He was becoming adept at reading her, when she was serious and when she was teasing him. It was a bit frightening how accurate he could be, “Whatever can I do to make it up to you?” She questioned.

“A kiss” He stated. 

“I do not know how maesters heals in the South but if you think a kiss can cure all, I wonder at the actions of Maester Pycelle,” She teased. He gaped at her in shock for a moment. 

“You have a surprisingly strange sense of humor sometimes, Sansa” He commented with a wary grin, eyes happy and light “Not a jest I would expect to fall from those innocent pink lips,” He had cupped her cheek now, caressing her bottom lip with a calloused thumb.

“I live to surprise,” She murmured as she leaned in closer, fusing her innocent pink lips to his own. She felt the familiar pull of attraction, the wave of lust that crashed over her as she leaned in further, tongues battling for dominance. Whatever hesitancy that had been between them before was gone. Jon kissed her like a man drowning, though he was careful not to let them get too close, lest she feel his bodily reaction again. Not that she did not know, she always knew. He was talented at feigning and hiding it, but she knew. She reacted too. She had always thought it so unladylike and improper how her undergarments became moist and heady, how she tingled with want for something so base as a cock. But seven hells, did she miss that appendage now. She trailed her hand down from his cheek, skimming along his muscled torso, stopping herself by gripping the meat of his side before she dared go lower.

She tried to tell herself that this was what young, carefree people did. It was common knowledge that the youths stole kisses and touches away from the eyes of their chaperones and others. She had heard dozens of stories, had read dozens of tales. But this was still Jon, adorable, honorable to a fault, Jon.

“We should join them for dinner” She pulled away first, stopping herself and her traitorous thoughts. Jon pouted adorably, all flushed face and swollen lips.

“Must we?” He questioned, kissing her again. She pulled away smiling as his lips chased her back. A quick peck and she sprung to her feet.

“Unfortunately, we must,” She told him as she pretended to fix her skirts as he righted himself. She knew the trick that men used to hide the straining of their breeches. Alayne Stone had learned about it from Myranda Royce, how they tucked their members under the belt of their breeches. Once finished with adjusting himself, he grabbed his cloak off of the ground, shook it out, and put it on. It provided shadows to disguise his crotch region as well. Clever, “Are you cold?” She questioned, schooling her features into those of concern. The tops of his ears turned pink.

“It’s easier then carrying it,” He answered, stuttering over his words a bit “Are you ready?” 

“Mhmm” She held out her hand for him to take. With a grin, he tucked it into his elbow, and led her out of the Godswood, “How late are we to dinner?” She questioned.

“Not late at all. It was to be a late supper anyways. Dany wished to take a nap beforehand,” Jon told her. There was something in his tone that gave him away. Whatever darkness had descended it included her friend. She would find out later if he did not wish to share, “She told me that she had left you hours ago but that you were not in your chambers. It is a good thing I went to the Godswood or you would have slept through the night in the woods,”

“I would have awakened eventually,” She told him.

“Have you read the tale of the beauty sleeping in the woods?” He questioned. She had not, so she shook her head, “It’s a southern fairytale,”

“Go on,” She nudged his side playfully, eager to keep him smiling, “You must continue the fairytale, tell me the story,” She demanded.

“There is a princess born to a distant realm, and in celebration, the King and Queen held a feast. Seven good fairies were invited to be godmothers to the princess. They brought gifts to the feast and were presented with jewels, gold, and the like. But then an evil fairy arrived, and she was quite angry at being ignored and forgotten. She was so old that many thought her dead. The first six good fairies presented their gifts of beauty, wit, grace, dance, song, and goodness to the princess. The evil fairy cut in and cursed the princess so that one day she would prick her hand on a spindle, and die,”

“Die?” She questioned sharply.

‘Aye, don’t interrupt the tale, my lady” Jon chided with a grin, “So the last of the good fairies, the one that hadn’t given her gift, tried to reverse it, but the old fairy was stronger. She did however succeed in changing it a bit, so that the princess would fall into a deep sleep when pricked, and only awaken from with kiss of a King’s son,” Jon paused dramatically, “So the King and Queen order every spindle in the kingdom to burn. But at the age of ten and six, when the King and Queen leave the castle for the day, the princess wandered the palace, and finds an old woman spinning. Curious, the girl asked to try, and her destiny is fulfilled,”

“Had her parents not told her of the curse?” She questioned when he paused.

“Tis a fairytale, my lady,” He told her, shaking his head, “Do you always ask so many questions of fairytales?" 

“Fine, continue,” She saved her hand. 

“The King and Queen returned home, found the princess asleep, and declared it fate. They summoned the seventh good fairy for she had the gift of sight, and the fairy saw that the princess is going to be very distressed when she wakes up alone, so the fairy put the entire castle to sleep, and then hid the palace,” Jon had a disbelieving air to his tone as he spoke, grinning, “Naturally,100 years down the line, a curious prince came across the castle, and found the princess asleep in her golden chambers. Overcome by her sheer beauty, he fell to his knees and kissed her,”

“How presumptuous” She trilled. Jon laughed aloud.

‘Aye, it is rather silly” He conceded, “But I am not finished. The princess woke up and was overcome with emotion for the prince that rescued her. They conversed for days as the rest of the castle awakened, and then they are married with the King and Queen present to see,”

“And they lived happily ever after?” She questioned, “Is that not the ending line of all fairytales?”

“Well, not quite so happily ever after. Turned out the prince’s mother was an Ogre, so the prince hid his new bride and the two children they eventually had, from her. But the princes’ father dies, and he has to ascend the throne, so he brings forth his secret wife and two children. The Orge Queen was not pleased. She had them sent to a little house in the woods, away from her son. She ordered the two children and wife cooked, but the cook is kind and hid them each time.  When the Queen found the truth, she prepared a tub full of noxious items, from snakes to poisons and prepares herself for a fine feast. The newly made King arrived just in time, and the Orge Queen jumped into the tub in shame, killing herself. And then they lived happily ever after” Jon told her in less then three breaths, running through it with speed.

She gaped at him. He seemed far too pleased with his ability to render her silent. She was as well.

“Dear gods’ She murmured, ‘That is a horrid fairytale, Jon! Fairytales are supposed to be light and romantic. A white knight saves a damsel in distress. Jonquil and Florian. The Good Queen Alysanne. The white knight’s mother never eats the damsel,”

“Have I shocked you, my lady?” 

“With your horrid fairytale skills? Yes, quite so,” She nodded, “Please tell me you were not about to equate my nap in the Godswood to that story, because that would make your mother the Orge queen,” She remembered what they were speaking of before his impromptu fairytale.

“Well, there are similarities and major differences” Jon hedged, a smile on his handsome face, “I do doubt that there are such things as fairies or that my mother would eat you,” 

“It is not magic nor your mother’s dislike of me that I question, it is the sleeping for a hundred years that I cannot fathom” She jested, “Or that you would be so dishonorable as to kiss a stranger while she slept unaware in the woods,”

“You are no stranger though,” He told her. 

“Hence why you can kiss me in the woods” She replied, “But if I sleep for more then a year, please do wake me up,”

‘I shall after five, rest is important”

They traded jokes and continued with their silly banter until a certain younger sister stopped them in their journey to the supper table. Arya was dressed in black breeches with an ornate grey tunic on, softening her look. Gendry stood beside her, dressed head to toe in black. He had a smudge of ash on his chin, no doubt he had taken a look at the royal forge.

“And where are you two coming from?” Arya questioned, brow raised. She looked far too pleased with herself. 

‘The Godswood,” She answered with a smile of her own, “Lord Gendry, you have a smudge of ash on your cheek. Arya tells me of your great skill with your hammer in the forge,” She commented. Arya’s cheeks flamed red. Gendry could not see though, he was politely looking at her. 

“Aye, I enjoy metal work, Lady Sansa” He replied, wiping at his chin, ‘Arya told me not to go down to the forge before dinner, suppose I should have listened” He replied gruffly. Arya overcame her embarrassment and leaned forward to help him wipe the smudge from his chin, “The Valyrian steel is really something else, Jon” Gendry commented, “Your man did great work on them,”

“You reworked Valyrian steel?” She questioned, looking between the two men, “Is that not impossible?”

“It’s hard, but not impossible,” Jon answered, looking at her curiously “Especially with dragon fire,”

“Why rework Valyrian steel though?” She questioned.

“For weapons,” Gendry replied, “You can melt down Valryian steel daggers, knives, broken pieces and make them into a full sword. What pieces did you use for the execution blade?” So she had not been mistaken. It was Valyrian steel.  

“A Valyrian arakh Dany brought home from Essos as a gift, a few broken decor pieces, and a knife,” Jon shrugged, “There are thousands of pieces of the steel littered around the realm, it not impossible to find them. It is however quite difficult to find a master skilled enough to forge them together into a usable weapon,”

“Master Mott did well,” Gendry replied, “I am almost jealous,”

“House Targaryen has a Valyrian blade yet again,” Jon grinned, “Honestly, I think my mother was more interested in the project then father. It is not as fine a weapon as the Stark blade, but there is not enough talent nor steel in the realm to recreate greatsword like that,” Ice was probably wider then she was, and nearly as tall. It took great strength to wield that sword. It was impractical in battle but perfect for executions, which was its main purpose in the North, “Tis a shame the skill and alleged sorcery died with Valyria,”

“Especially since you’ve the dragons again,” Gendry agreed, “All you need is an alchemist or something,”

“Or something” Jon nodded, “Are we boring you, Lady Arya?” He questioned. Arya was purposely sighing as they continued with their sword talk. She grinned brightly when Jon finally addressed her dramatics.

“Of course not, prince” She answered, “It is quite interesting to hear you two have this conversation every single time that you see each other. How you could not die of boredom, I have no idea,” She snarked. Gendry patted her head like a child.

“She is just upset she does not have a Valyrian sword, and that her ancestral sword was always too big for her to play with,” Gendry remarked, “Perhaps Jon will let you hold his,” 

“I would never get it back,” Jon laughed, “You will have to go on a quest to gather the steel, and then perhaps I would lend you my blacksmith and dragon to forge your own,”

‘She is going to go steal from some old lord now,” Gendry sighed teasingly, “I better write to House Celitgar, tell them to be on the lookout for a thief,”

“I will not, I am quite pleased with the simple steel sword that you gifted me with,” Arya remarked, stressing the word simple and quite with a grin on her face.

“I have gifted her nearly a full set of armor, and a new sword that she can wield comfortably. I took her on a wedding trip for a moon and a half to Braavos, and allow her to wear whatever she pleases. I invite her on the hunts with the men, and this is how she treats me, my darling little wife,” Gendry dramatically whined. She and Jon laughed at the the two of them 

“You two are an adorable pair,” She patted her sister’s cheek, “It’s sickeningly, really,”

“I have to agree with Lady Sansa,” Jon echoed, “Honestly, you two are like lovesick pups,”

 “Compared to the two of you? Sneaking off to the Godswood for a little privacy?” Arya teased. Jon’s ears went red while his cheeks tinged pink.

“We are going to be late to dinner,” She told them, leveling a glare at Arya, though it was only half hearted, “We should move along,”

“I agree,” Arya nodded, “Do not worry, we will chaperone the two of you. Jon, cousin, I think you are far too close to my sister. Be a dear and separate a smidge,” She teased as they walked down the corridor, "Leave room for the Gods, as Septa Mordane would tell you,"  

Dinner was a surprisingly strained affair. Whatever had occurred during the council meeting, it had shaken the Targaryen’s to their cores. Daenerys and Aegon both looked to be troubled, barely speaking a word throughout the entire meal, and never to each other or Jon. In fact, all three Targaryen's seemed to be steadfastly ignoring each other.  Robb appeared a bit ill at ease as well, lending to an overall somber dinner party. Even the maids and servants scurried about in a manner that left her wondering what else had gone down this evening while she slept unawares in the Godswood. She wanted desperately to ask Daenerys but the silver haired princess would not meet her gaze. 

She chatted quietly with her sister and Jon instead. While usually the most somber of the Targaryen group, Jon was the only one with a carefree smile and an easy laugh throughout the evening. He smiled as he engaged her in conversation, never once glancing over at his brother or aunt with a worrying glance like she had been shooting at Robb. It was strange indeed.

Arya and Gendry left first after shooting awkward glances between the strained Targaryen’s. She did not blame her sister and good brother for departing when they did. As for her and Robb, well, they had to stay with the royals after the festival, and it would have to come out eventually. A few moments later, Aegon stood and looked to Robb. Jon looked to her, but Daenerys spoke first. 

“I believe I will lay claim to Lady Sansa’s presence tonight, nephew” Daenerys told Jon with a soft smile, a first of the evening “Go play with the boys,” She encouraged. Whatever it was, the princess was not mad at Jon. That was something at least. 

“Of course, Aunt” Jon answered stoically, “Lady Sansa” He bowed his head and took her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the skin atop of it, “Pleasant dreams, my lady”

“And to you, your Grace” She answered. She bid goodnight to her brother and Prince Aegon as well. She followed Daenerys to her chambers, where Liv and her maid were already waiting. Apparently she would be spending the entire night with the princess. She did not question it. Had she been a typical lady in waiting, she would be accustomed to this.

The princess did not speak until they were both sitting on her balcony in their dressing gowns, goblets of arbor gold in their grasps.

“My brother has made quite a few decisions within the past few hours regarding the safety of the capital and our safety as royals” Daenerys revealed after a few moments of awkward silence, “The entire castle is being searched top to bottom, as well as the servants and maids for Brotherhood marks and paraphernalia. No doubt you have noticed the harried state of a few of them,”

‘I had” She murmured, “Have they found anything?”

“No” Daenerys shook her head, “They have not”

“That is good and bad news then,”

“Yes, it is” She nodded, “The chambers of our noble guests will have to be searched as well now. They have no doubt already searched through yours, and will search your person on the morrow for marks and such,” She looked apologetic at the idea.  

“As they should,” She told her friend, “I have no qualms with that,”

“Good” Daenerys nodded, “My brother has also decided that I should be wed,” She barely caught herself in time, nearly gaping at the princess. She had not seen that coming. 

“To whom?” She questioned. 

“He has decided that a marriage of old would be most beneficial, to show that we do not need any other houses for strength, that the Targaryen’s alone are enough” She continued, not answering the original question. For a moment she feared that the princess would reveal an impending marriage to Jon. Her heart seized and her lungs protested, “So in a moon’s turn I will be wed. My brother will announce at the festival that Aegon and I are marrying"


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little short and angsty chapter. Next one will be up tomorrow. Enjoy :)

She spent the night playing talking and drinking with Daenerys. The topic of marriage wasn’t discussed thoroughly, and when she tried, the princess just drank more. She seemed unwilling to offer anything more than the facts, which were simply that she and Aegon were to be wed, and that neither of them was happy about it. They drank and laughed at trivial things, and as their decanter of wine grew to be less and less and the hour grew later and later, their laughter was heard more than actual words. Daenerys picked up the empty decanter of wine and frowned. 

“We need more,” She told her seriously before dissolving into a fit of laughter at the idea. She was not quite sure what was so funny about being bereft of wine, but her friend’s laughter caused her to laugh, and then they were sneaking out of the chambers in their dressing gowns and bare feet, headed to the kitchen to refill their decanter.

‘We could have just called for a servant to do this” She whispered as Daenerys pulled her tight to the wall when a guard patrolled past them down the corridor. Daenerys looked gob smacked, then started laughing. She covered her mouth to silence her, only to be licked, “Gah” She wiped her hand on the silk of the princess’s dressing gown. The girl just grinned. Dany had had much more wine than she had, though they had both had a tad too much. She knew her facilities were not performing at optimal levels.

“There is no fun in that” Daenerys proclaimed as they returned to their path to the kitchens. For a castle on high alert, there were not many guards to be encountered. Perhaps intentional, she mused. Daenerys had revealed that she had pitched a slight fit after hearing the news of her arrangement, causing the King to grant her certain liberties, like unchaining her dragon tomorrow. It had all tumbled from her mouth earlier before she went mum and started drinking in earnest. She supposed that the guards had been given orders to give the princess a certain level of freedom.

They made it to the kitchens and to the shelves devoted to housing the ale and wine. The night servants left them to it, pretending like they didn’t hear them clanking about as they kneaded bread for the morning. She had watched a few pop their heads around the corner to ensure they weren’t being robbed before disappearing, content that it was just a tipsy princess pilfering their stash. 

“Well, is this not a sight for sore eyes,” Came the voice of Aegon from behind them. She whirled about, barely catching the cantor of Dornish red in her grasp. Aegon, Jon, and her brother were behind them, watching with amused grins. They seemed to be as drunk on wine as they were and dressed in similar sleeping attire.

“Ah, if it is not my husband to be” Daenerys drawled as she looked them over, “Censuring me already, darling?” She questioned unkindly. She watched as something dark passed over Aegon’s face before he schooled his features. Clearly he was not okay with the whole situation either.

“Of course not, dear” He returned, taking a bottle from the shelf, “I propose we drink together, celebrate our many years of happiness to come,” He told her as he took a heavy gulp from the bottle, forgoing a chalice or glass.

“A proposal, how novel” Dany remarked coolly, following in his example and sipping the win straight from the bottle as well. Both Robb and Jon looked between the two with surprised and wearied looks upon their faces. She too felt wary at this interaction. The two Targaryen's were far too calm and collected. Anger was no doubt brewing just under their surfaces. She could feel it in the air. 

“Well, I think I want a glass” She broke the silence and the staring match between the two.

“I think you have had enough wine tonight, Sansa” Robb interjected. 

“No, no, no” Daenerys shook her head, silver blonde hair flying about her shoulders. They had both let their hair down earlier in the night when they first put on their dressing gowns, which she realized belatedly they were still wearing. They were ornate things, these robes and gowns that Daenerys had picked out for their little slumber party, but still improper, “No man shall censure us, Lord Robb. I am to be your Queen, you have to listen to me,”

“Dany,” Aegon sighed.

“To which family does House Stark bend the knee?” Daenerys asked shrilly, arching a brow, “Lord Robb?”

“House Targaryen” He replied warily.

“Exactly, and last I checked I am a Targaryen, and will still be a Targaryen when I wed” Daenerys reasoned, “So you either join us in drinking to Aegon and I’s blessed marriage arrangement or you leave and go to bed,”

They chose to drink. It was a strained affair. Every so often, and in the middle of totally civil conversation, Aegon and Dany would get into a tiff. Robb or she usually broke it up by changing the topic, and then they just poured their friends more wine. It was not the best idea, in retrospect. Eventually Aegon and Dany got into an argument no amount of interference from them could remedy though they each tried. Aegon said some nasty things, and Dany returned the favor full force. She and Robb listened in horror as family secrets were spilt. Dany yelled that she’d rather marry Viserys while Aegon told her to have it, she was beneath him anyway and insinuated that she was no maid. Dany fumed, slapping Aegon clear across the face. Aegon growled, looking like he was going to pounce. Jon made the mistake of getting mixed into it.

“Enough, Aegon” He stepped between his brother and aunt, pressing a firm palm against Aegon’s chest while the other held Dany’s shoulder. The blonde haired prince was heaving in anger. 

“Do not presume to tell me what to do, little brother” Aegon shoved him away, “Not when you have the choice of whom to marry when I do not. You could have married the Targaryen, strengthened our legacy, but you did not want her either,” He snarled, shoving Jon and stalking out of the kitchen. There was an awkward silence in the room as they each contemplated what to do.

 “I will go make sure he is well” Jon sighed softly after a minute.

“No, now he is mad at you too” Dany huffed. She had lost the anger in her eyes and most of the drunken glow. She herself felt pretty sober at that point, “Lord Robb, would you mind?”

“Of course not. You’ll see them both back to their chambers, cousin?” Robb questioned, looking between her and Dany.

“Yes,” He nodded solemnly.

“Good. Then I shall see you all on the morrow,” Robb replied stoically before following the angry prince out of the kitchens.

“I need to be alone,” Dany told them softly before draining her goblet of wine and leaving just her and Jon alone.

“Well, that got out of hand” Jon stated quietly a second after Dany’s footsteps disappeared from sound. He looked mildly upset.

“It is not your fault,” She told him, reaching to grab his hand to squeeze it gently, “It was not your idea to marry them,” She reasoned.

‘May we go to the Godswood to speak?” Jon questioned.

“Of course” She nodded. She stood and swayed a bit, the wine heavy in her head as she changed positions. She felt as if her stomach had fallen to her feet. Jon took her arm with a sly grin. Her world righted itself once again. 

‘Too much wine, Lady Sansa?” He questioned with an arched brow.

“One does not say no to the Princess Daenerys, your Grace” She replied. They both left their goblets of wine on the tressle table. Jon, bless his soul, grabbed two skins of water from another shelf and took those with him. They went slowly. He was not as unaffected by the wine as he pretended to be. They both stumbled a bit, giggling like children when they “evaded” the guards. She was sure that they saw them but pretended not to. 

They went to their usual place in the Godswood and settled under the tree. She was thankful to be wearing a nice looking dressing gown as opposed to the other night. Jon intertwined their fingers and leaned his head on her shoulder. His inky curls tickled her chin as his familiar scent invaded her nostrils. It was an innocent thing but it felt more intimate. She laid hers atop his.

‘Father asked both Aegon and I to marry Daenerys before broaching the subject with her. We both refused. We turned against each other, suggesting to father why marriages between the other and Dany would be a better idea. It got ugly,” He admitted quietly. She squeezed their intertwined fingers gently.

“I am sure you both said things you regret,” She murmured, “But you are brothers,”

“Targaryen brothers have gone to war for less” Jon told her with a sigh. She knew that statement to be quite true, “I tried to apologize all night but he just ignored it. He would change the subject or engage your brother in talking of other things,” Jon sighed, “I know he is angry at me, but I am angry at him too. Only I feel as if I can’t be because I won,”

“You can be angry and feel guilt at the same time,” She told him. She waited for him to speak, but he just twiddled with their fingers.  “Why did you not tell me all of this earlier in the Godswood?” She questioned when he made no move to speak further. He sighed again.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay after the execution earlier, and then the conversation just kept going further and further from what I had to say. Then you were teasing me and smiling, and I did not wish to be the one that caused you to frown like you are now,”

“I was smiling and teasing you because you looked so lost in a darkness of your own mind,” She told him honestly, “I could see it when you looked at me. You were so troubled,”

“We both said things we should not have,” Jon revealed, “We were arguing semantics. I said that it would be most beneficial for Aegon and Dany to marry because he was the eldest, and should be the one to marry first.  He then said that I was the lesser liked prince because I did not look Targaryen, that marrying Dany would help that. As a child it was one of my biggest insecurities. I did not look anything like my siblings or the Targaryen's of old. I did not have the eyes or the hair or the facial features. I was too Northern. Aegon knew how I felt about that. It does not bother me much anymore but it still hurt,” 

“Oh Jon” She felt for him. Her own Jon had felt so out of place as a Stark. It ached to hear that in this world Jon had felt the same, “You may not look as Targaryen as your brother, but I can see your father in your eyes, and your manner. You are both very serious in demeanor,” 

“Thank you for saying that,” Jon murmured, “It truly does not bother me anymore,”

‘You were just hurt that Aegon betrayed you like that,”

“Yes,” Jon nodded, “But that was not the worst of it. He brought you into it,”

“Me?” She questioned in surprise.

“May I be honest?” Jon questioned, sitting up and tilting her chin so that she was looking at him. His hand was a soft presence on her chin, anchoring her.

“You may always be honest with me, Jon,” She told him sincerely. 

“And you with I,” Jon told her, “You must know that I like you very much. It is my intention to marry you in the hopefully not so distant future, with your acceptance of course. I’m not asking for your hand right now, because we have all the time in the world to enjoy our courtship and then a betrothal, and I want us both to enjoy that. I suppose I am just making sure we are both on the same page,” He rambled a bit. It was endearing. Her heart was thumping at his words, her blood on fire.  

“We are,” She told him softly, “And I do like you very much, Jon. I’m not a betting lady, but if you ask, I would bet that I say yes,” Jon smiled at that.

“I have known you to wager a time or two,” He laughed a bit, but sobered, “I am glad to have that out in the open. When Aegon suggested that I marry Dany, I brought you into the conversation first, and our courtship, but Aegon twisted it. He offered himself as a candidate for your hand, and claimed that the North would have another Queen and be satisfied with the match,” Jon continued, “I told father it would be dishonorable to his wife’s family and the entirety of the North to do such a thing. I just, it was so callous of him, talking of you as if you were a horse to be traded. I offered father to give you the choice, told him to ask you which one you would rather have,”

“I would have picked you a hundred times over” She brought her hand up and cupped his cheek, smiling at him sadly, “A thousand times,” She promised. His grin was like that of a child’s on their name day. It lit up his entire face. Even in this world, Jon was still so desperate for acceptance, so eager to fit in somewhere. He kissed her with abandon, tugging her across his lap in his eager play. She squealed against him as they moved, wrapping her arms around his neck as she deepened the kiss. Her skirt got tangled around her legs, so she hiked it up to the knee. Jon eagerly explored the new skin presented to him, sending shivers up her spine. She tangled her fingers in his inky curls, scratching them against his scalp. Her hips acted on their own accord. She was already straddling his lap. It was little effort to grind herself closer, feel the tantalizing shape of his hardened cock against her core for the briefest of second.  He made a noise that was a mix between a growl and a moan. It must have startled him back to reality for he pulled away.

“We should stop,” He told her breathlessly. She herself was panting.

“We should” She nodded, though she couldn’t resist kissing him once more. He leaned into it, chasing her lips when she pulled away.

“You make it very difficult to follow the proper courtship etiquette,” Jon told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It had fallen free from the braid at some point.

“As do you,” She told him.

“I should walk you back to your chambers,” He told her quietly, “It is quite late, and we’ve both had a lot of wine," 

“Ye,s” She nodded. She adjusted her skirt and let him pull her up from the ground. Her dressing gown had dirt stains now, though not nearly as badly as Jon’s. He was covered in mud from rolling around in it. 

They did manage to make it to her chambers without being spotted, which was good considering their state of undress. Not even the laxest of guards would ignore the state they were in. Her wine fog was clearing as well. Perhaps she would feel alright in the morning instead of wine sick. Jon kissed her cheek at the door to her chambers, and wished her pleasant dreams. She wished him the same and snuck into the empty chamber. She dressed in a new gown, and slipped into her bed, welcoming the cool crispness of the sheets against her fevered skin. She closed her eyes and let her hands wander, thinking of her Jon. Her saliva slick fingers were a poor substitute for his cock or tongue, but she reached her peak as she thought of him and the nights that they had spent together. She didn’t even realize that her old Jon was bleeding away, giving way to a new Jon in her dreams. A Jon that had a carefree smile and a scar on his left eye that had healed into a faint, barely noticeable scar.

Sleep came easy after that. She dreamt of snow and a childhood now past.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little dark in the middle. Proceed with caution.

When she awoke, it was with a stiff body and a headache. She felt like she might vomit but swallowed it down. She had been worse off before from a little wine sickness and survived. She sat up slowly, closing her eyes when the world tilted dangerously. When she figured she was steady enough, she opened them again. The sun was streaming in through her open window, the shadows leading her to believe it was later than she normally woke. She looked around, and spotted a flower on the little table in the corner, along with a breakfast tray of something. She slowly inched off of the bed and made her way to the table. There were a few thick slices of bread, some fruit, and something that looked like custard. She picked up the pink rose, noticing the little card tied to the stem with a delicate silver ribbon. Two gifts in one, she mused.

“ _To the lovely Lady Sansa, this flower pales in comparison to your beauty and grace. With fondness, Jon”_ He had written it in Valyrian. She studied the letters and the smoothness to his strokes of the quill. After making sure it was dry she carefully hid it in her little box of treasures in her trunk. She kept the ribbon and the flower out. The rose was not something she could pin into her hair, so she settled on adding it to her little bouquet and threading the silver ribbon through her hair. 

She ate her breakfast slowly, keeping all of it down despite her stomachs protesting. When she finished, she washed and freshened up before getting into her gown herself. This one was dark green and tied in the front. Liv was missing at the moment. She assumed she had noon duties to attend to since she had slept in so long. Just as she was finishing her meal, someone knocked on her door.

‘Enter” She called, standing to greet whomever it was. Ser Brandon entered the room, a letter in hand.

“Good morning, niece” He greeted, “A letter from your father arrived this morning for you from Winterfell,” He told her, offering her the folded parchment.

‘That was fast” She murmured, taking the parchment. It had only been ten days since the raven was sent. It usually took a sennight each way, maybe longer with autumn storms. She had been expecting the letter after the festival. 

‘Luwin always did train the quickest ravens in the realm,” Brandon commented as he sat on her trunk. He was going to wait for her to read it she supposed. She broke the silver direwolf seal and scanned the slanted slightly messy scrawl her father was infamous for.

“ _Dear Sansa,_

_I feel quite popular after receiving as many ravens as I did over the past few hours. The first was a rather alarming missive from the King. I am glad to hear that your brother was not gravely injured and that you performed admirably in the face of such a situation. The second letter came from your brother and you, though I suspect it was mostly your doing. You are both adults and I will not forcibly remove you from the capital city. I will however urge you to be cautious and careful while there, and ask that you stay with guards or within the castle walls.  The third, to my surprise, was from my nephew, the prince. His letter to me is the reason I am allowing you to stay. He did not beg me to let you stay or demand that I retrieve you for your safety. He gave me his word that he would protect you at all costs. I will admit to being a bit weary of your courtship, but there is no better man that I would want to align my eldest daughter with._

_If things escalate further, I will not hesitate in marching to the capital myself to see with my own two eyes that you are both well and good. Your mother adds that she wishes you would return home to her and your brothers.  The autumn festival is near, if not past, and I wish you a safe and happy festival day. You will no doubt enjoy your time spent there. There is nothing like it in the North, sad to say. Enjoy your youth and be safe._

_With love,_

_Your father, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North”_

She read it aloud to Ser Brandon, who guffawed at some of the words.

“You shall have to ask Jon about that letter,” He commented with a grin.

“I shall indeed,” She agreed, “Have you seen anyone this morning?”

‘I have seen all of your ghastly companions, each one looking quite wine sick truth be told. You looked to have fared better then the rest,”

“Better tolerance” She quipped, causing her uncle to laugh.

“Got that from me, I tell ya” He replied, “Come on, I’ll escort you to them. I believe Gendry and Arya are with Robb in the forge. The King has called upon his children for a few moments,” He informed her.

‘To talk of the marriage?”

‘Ah, you heard” Brandon walked beside her, “Then you know that no one is quite thrilled with the arrangement,”

“Hence the wine sickness, good ser” She answered, “Do you know what would cheer the princess up though?”

‘Do I risk asking what, my lady?”

‘Another lesson” She took advantage of it shamelessly.

“I suppose a brief lesson on protection would be beneficial with the festival coming up. Your father and mother would never forgive me if something happened, and trust me when I say things happen,” Brandon warned her, “I know you youngsters like to play dodge the guards and have a day of freedom from etiquette and duty, but it is dangerous out there, Sansa, especially for a young maiden unfamiliar with the city layout,”

‘I know, Uncle Brandon. Princess Daenerys has given me a very detailed account of all the dishonor and shame nobles and royals have brought down on their family days on festival days past,” 

‘Like I said, your parents would never forgive me,” Brandon sighed, “Find me after high tea and I shall teach you a few more tricks. Leave the princess to me, and wear a dress akin to whatever fancy costume you’ve got picked out for the festival,” He promised. He left her at the entrance to the forge. It seemed to be empty save for her siblings and good brother. It was almost too warm for the light cotton gown she had chosen to wear.

“Good morning, my little fuzzy monsters” She greeted the four wolves that sat outside the forge. They were sitting on the edge not quite in the forge but close enough that they could still see their masters. She had wondered where Lady had been that morning. Apparently her siblings were a greater lure then cuddling in bed. Ghost did not seem to mind wandering away from his master either. Each wolf allowed her to scratch them behind the ears, though Nymeria did playfully nip her wrist when she started to untangle some of the mats she had. 

“I told you she hates to be pampered” Arya called idly. Her brother and Gendry were focused on something they were creating but it appeared that Arya was just observing. She had a smudge of ash on her cheek though. It looked like a finger print.

“She needs a proper wash and grooming” She commented as she continued to pamper the wolf. Nymeria was glaring at her. If it were Shaggydog she would have already lost her fingers, “Maybe a trim,”

“She’s a wolf, Sansa, she needs to look fierce not well kept” Arya retorted as she whistled for her wolf. Nymeria took off, circling her master before sitting docilely at her feet.

“Ghost allows me to groom him,” She remarked, remembering the growls from the white wolf and laughter from his master when she brought out the comb to brush him one day in the Godswood. Ever the gentle wolf, Ghost had allowed her to do so after Jon bade him to behave, “Isn’t that right, Ghost?” She called to him. He heaved himself up and walked over to her, settling at her feet like Nymeria had done.

“Great, you’ve enticed his wolf as well,” Arya laughed, “Wrapped around your little pinky finger,”

“Just like his master” Robb commented as he stepped out of the stifling heat. He was filthy, covered in dry sweat and soot. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, leaving streaks of black. Gendry emerged a second later looking just as filthy.

“Didn’t I tell you the forge would sweat the alcohol right out of ya?” Gendry commented, not catching their original conversation, “Oh, good morning, Sansa, or should I say, noon?” He had just noticed her presence. 

“Good afternoon, Gendry,” She remarked, grinning, “A little too much last night, brother?” 

‘Do not look at me like that, you were just as sloshed” Robb accused, “At least I didn’t sleep half of the day away,”

“I was tired” She retorted with a shrug, “Father wrote back and sends his love. He tells us to be safe and to look out for each other. Mother wishes we would return as do the little boys,” She told her brother

“That was quick. Luwin is getting scary good at training the new ravens,” Robb remarked, “Is that what Ser Brandon was trying to track you down for? He looked here first before we told him you were still abed,” 

“Yes, he found me in my chambers,” She replied, “Arya, if you are not busy after high tea, Uncle Brandon has offered to hold another training lesson to cheer Princess Daenerys up,”

“Cheer her up?” Arya questioned in confusion, “And what do you mean by another lesson?” 

“Come I will get you up to speed in the gardens, and then you can go change for our lesson,” She offered, “The boys can continue to play with their precious metals,”

She spent the early afternoon updating Arya on all that had occurred last night, and then on their lesson a few days ago. Arya was bouncing on the soles of her feet by the time she finished. She was beyond excited to get a chance to spar with a real knight. She complained that Gendry always went easy on her because of her size. The more Arya spoke, the giddier she became. She would not doubt her sister’s skill against their uncle. She would be the one to beat.

After having tea, they made their way to Arya’s chambers so that she could change into a dress.  She was not thrilled with having to wear one but the thought of not being able to attend the lesson because of her lack of proper dictated attire had her lacing up the simple blue gown quickly. She even put on a pair of delicate slippers instead of her boots. 

She led her sister to the room that they had used for their last lesson, and found Ser Brandon and the princess already waiting for them. One of the younger household guards was there as well. Daenerys looked happy to be there, and she was thankful for that.

“Okay, ladies, I’ve enlisted Justin to help in this demonstration. He will be playing the role of drunken fool, and I, the innocent damsel in distress,” Ser Brandon told them dramatically. Daenerys rolled her eyes while Arya laughed outright, “Now, I am going to show you several maneuvers to evade his lecherous hands. The goal is to run, just like in our last lesson,”

“Will there be no weapons this time? No throwing knives?” Daenerys questioned with a slight frown on her face.

‘Do you plan to wear throwing knives to the festival, princess?” 

“Perhaps” Daenerys shrugged.

“No, this is pure hand to hand combat. I want you to be able to escape Justin in two minutes. After two minutes, you have been pulled into a dark alley and defiled. We are going to practice until you hit two minutes,”

“Why Justin and not you, Ser Brandon?” 

“Because none of the drunk fools are going to be as strong or as smart as the Kingsguard,” Brandon replied with a proud smirk, “Nor as handsome. I could kidnap you all with a smile alone,” He boasted, waggling his eyebrow. She laughed with the rest of them this time, “Alright, enough laughter. Princess, you first,”

Daenerys stepped up and stood before Justin.

“Most likely he shall approach from behind,” Ser Brandon told them, twisting the princess so that her back faced them. Justin stepped forward and stepped on the hem of her gown, “Now walk as if you hadn’t a care in the world,” Ser Brandon told her. Daenerys took a step then faltered when her gown caught. She twisted just in time for Justin to put a hand over her mouth and spin her into his body. She had tried to scream but the hand over her mouth muffled it before she could. The princess tried to escape him, but he held her close to his chest, like he was embracing her, and then tugged her off to the corner of the room.

“Now you’re in a dark alley with a drunken idiot, and no one can hear you,” Ser Brandon told them, “Let her go,” He told Justin, who dropped her instantly. Daenerys huffed and glared at the man, who looked a bit cowed by the glare.

“Apologies, princess” He stuttered. 

“Arya, you next,” Brandon called. Arya smiled with her teeth, practically bouncing to stand by Justin, “Pretend you are chatting with me, no, do not look at him,” Brandon told her. Arya huffed and faced Brandon.

“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it, Ser?” She drawled sarcastically. Brandon rolled his eyes. Justin stepped forward but didn’t step on Arya’s gown like he had with Daenerys. Instead he pressed a dagger to Arya’s spine while throwing an arm over her shoulder like they were old pals.

“Scream and I kill you,” Justin told her. Arya rolled her eyes but kept still and quiet, “Walk forward, towards that dark alley,” 

“Really?” Arya questioned. 

“Do it or he kills you, remember?” Brandon called, “You have a knife to your back. What else can you do?”

“Fight back,” Arya told him before she slammed on Justin’s toe and pulled away before he could actually get her with the knife. It was a wooden one, but still. She evaded it completely. Justin grunted and grabbed her by the skirts, but Arya fought back. She screamed loudly before Justin managed to get a hand over her mouth, and then she bit him. He pulled back quickly, and Arya bolted to the other side of the room. She was grinning, “I win, that was easy,” She boasted.

“Was it?” Brandon questioned, “You and me, after Sansa has her turn,” Arya’s eyes lit up like it was her name day. Brandon looked just as eager. They were a bad pair those two. She stepped up and turned to her uncle like the other two had done. Justin did not grab her by the gown or by using a ruse. Instead he walked right up to her and gave her a big grin.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He told her, stepping in close. She took an automatic step back. He reached for her face, fingers skimming her cheek as she grimaced, “Pretty,” He crooned again.

“Leave me alone,” She told him as he forced her back another step. That was his game, she realized as he got even closer. He was trying to back her into it. She would be trapped before she knew it.

“Ain’t mean no harm, darling” He drawled, “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be alone in this crowd. I am a house guard, I am. Let me escort you back to the right sorts,” He hooked his arm through hers then.

“No,” She told him, elbowing him in the gut. He grunted but she knew it hadn’t hurt him since he was wearing leathers, then grabbed for her hair. Her plait was the perfect thing to grasp. She winced as he tugged relatively hard, forcing her neck back. He was behind her then, leading her towards the area that they had marked as the alley. She twisted hard, and brought her knee up in his groin. He wasn’t wearing protection for that, and dropped to the ground quickly. She ran away while he groaned in place.

“Well done,” Brandon told her, “Always go for the groin or the fleshy stomach. Men are weak creatures. Exploit that,” He told them, “Come on, princess, you again while Justin regains his strength,” The poor guard was still red faced and wheezing.

Daenerys did better the second time around, and managed to get away from Ser Brandon in the two minutes. She got a go with him, but it took several minutes for her to escape. After, Arya and he had a heated fist fight where her little sister fought tooth and nail against him, and he let her. He was punched several times, and even sported a split lip, but he kept letting Arya have at it. It took a tag team of Justin and Brandon to subdue her completely though she knew her uncle was pulling his punches. Her sister was panting and breathless by the end, but beaming none the less.

Sweaty and sporting some bruises and muscle aches, the three of them left the area feeling euphoric. The princess kissed both of their cheeks.

“Thank you for that, it was just what I needed,” She told them, before leaving them to get ready for dinner. Time had flown by while they practiced. The sun was already starting to set. Granted, she had woken up late in the day, but it still seemed like no time had passed. She and Arya departed ways as well to get ready separately. 

When she returned to her chambers, Liv was there. It looked as if her room had been ransacked. Everything was a strewn about. Her wardrobe and trunks were empty and lying on their sides. Their contents were spilled across the room. Her bed was unmade, furs and blankets and sheets thrown everywhere. The vase that had held her collection of flowers from Jon was on the floor, shattered. The flowers looked like they had been trampled.

“Oh,” She felt her heart seize at the sight. Her beautiful flowers were ruined. 

“My lady, I am so sorry, I could not stop them,” Liv told her quickly as she sprung up from her position on the floor after hearing her exclamation. She had been folding stockings and slips that had come from her trunk, “They are searching everywhere,”

“The guards?” She questioned as she surveyed the chaos. 

“Yes, milady” Liv nodded, “The King ordered the entire castle searched,” She explained. Dany had told her that last night, but she had assumed they had already done her chambers. Apparently not.

“It’s okay, Liv, I understand,” She told the girl as she picked up the ruined flowers carefully. Liv noticed.

“I am so sorry, my lady” She repeated, ‘They were reckless in their search. I tried to bade them to be careful but they did not listen. It was inappropriate for a lady of your status,”

“It is what it is, Liv. Tis better to be safe then sorry” She told her as she carefully placed the salvageable flowers on the table. There were precious few. Her pink rose from this morning was in shambles. The rest went into the hearth, “I will help you. It will be right as rain in no time,” She told the young girl, who was clearly a little unsettled by it all.

“They said they would be back to search you personally, my lady” Liv whispered as she resumed her folding. She looked to the girl with an arched brow.

“Were you searched, Liv?” She questioned.

“Aye, all the servants were, head to toe,” Liv told her, “By the guards,” She added. 

“I am sorry that happened to you,” She told her kindly.

“Nothing to hide, milady” Liv replied with a shrug.

They continued to put the room back together, both cutting themselves on the shards of glass from the broken vase before Liv left to get a proper brush to clean it up. She returned with the search party on her heels. Ser Whent and a septa, and to her surprise and confusion, two household guards.

“Lady Sansa,” Ser Whent nodded to her, “May I assume that your handmaid has filled you in on our purpose here?” He questioned, looking to Liv.

“She has, Ser, as did the princess yesterday,” She replied, “Is there a reason there are three of you?” She questioned. 

‘Security, my lady, for yourself and I,” Ser Whent replied, “When we searched your room we found two daggers and a throwing knife. They are not considered to be normal bobbles for a noble lady like yourself,” He told her.

“I won one of the daggers from Prince Aegon in a wager in the Stormlands a few moons ago during my sister’s wedding. The other dagger and the throwing knife were from Ser Brandon and our lesson a few days ago. You may confirm both those stories with Princess Daenerys or Ser Brandon and return the knives to me,” She told him.

“In due time, my lady” Ser Whent replied dismissively, “Septa Morella is here to ensure decency, your maid may stay as well,” 

“Septa Morella and your two household guards can be dismissed, ser. I have no weapons as you already took them, and I need only my maid for decency,”

“Afraid I’m under direct orders, Lady Sansa. Are you going to resist?” He questioned sharply. She bit her tongue and shook her head, “Good. This will be quicker if you do not resist,” He told her before motioning to the two guards, “Just stand still and do as we say,” 

They checked her neck and scalp, pulling her hair up roughly to expose her skin. Liv undid the laces of her gown with quick, steady hands, leaving her in a thin shift. They inspected her bare arms and shoulders.

“The shift must go too,” Ser Whent told her, “It will be quick,” She hated those words. He had said them far too many times now, “Hold your arms up and out,” He told her. Liv whispered her apologies before untying her shift. It was not as bad as being stripped in the throne room and beaten like she had been in the previous realm, but it was still demeaning and embarrassing. She fought back tears as the memories from the last realm sprung forward unwittingly, so she looked up to the ceiling and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall as the two guards, Ser Whent, and the septa were all treated to her naked self.  One of them kept touching her, soft glancing touches. She doubted Ser Whent even noticed. Her collarbone, her wrist, her torso. Her skin got goose freckles.

“Ser, we’ve got a mark on her left side,” The touchy guard told Ser Whent, his fingers on her hip. 

“It’s a birthmark” She bit back sharply, “Not the mark of the Brotherhood,”

“Little big to be a birthmark,” The guard replied. Ser Whent stepped forward and stooped to inspect it. She felt like an animal in a circus, or a whore being inspected for sale. Her throat ached and her vision swam, but she refused to cry in front of these men.

“Just a birthmark” Whent replied, then stepped back.

‘Are you finished then?” Liv questioned for her.

“Nearly,” The second guard replied. A rough hand touched the skin a few inches up and behind her knee, nearly her upper thigh, lingering longer then the last ones. Her patience snapped. 

A few things happened at the same time. The septa spoke out, getting “Ser, that is not-” out before she was turning and backhanding the guard across his face, the noise echoing through the chamber. Ser Whent and Liv both moved quickly. Liv had a dressing gown on her in seconds while Ser Whent restrained the guard from retaliating.

“You are finished now” She managed to tell them, glaring at the three men while Liv rubbed a soothing hand up and down her arm. The septa looked scandalized. The guards looked angry, and Ser Whent held the same cool composure as always. He was a strange one.

“We are” Ser Whent nodded, “You are clean,” He told her.

 “As if there was any doubt,” She hissed back. 

“I think it would best if you left now,” Liv told them harshly. For a young, wisp of girl, Liv had a commanding voice when angered. The guards nodded and left, taking Septa Morella with them. Liv barred the door.

“The nerve of them” Liv fumed as she picked up her clothing from the floor, “To barge in and do that, as if you were Brotherhood. You are the Queen’s own kin. And that one guard, to touch you like that, I noticed his hands roaming, even though Whent ignored it,” She ranted, “They didn’t even search me that intently and I’m a servant, I deserve that level of scrutiny, not you. I got a cursory glance while you got a full fledged inspection. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine” She managed to say.

“You do not look fine,” Liv told her softly, “Sit, I’ll draw you a bath before dinner. The warm water will do you well,” So she sat on her bed with her dressing robe around her. She still felt naked though, so she burrowed into her blankets and furs until she was positive no one could see her naked body. 

Liv sighed softly when she returned from drawing the bath. She had nearly fallen asleep in her warm pile of fur.

“Come, your bath is ready, you will feel better after it, my lady,” She told her gently. She nodded and got out of her pile of furs. Liv led her to the bath, and took the robe off. She hid herself in the water quickly, submerging herself to her chin “Your door is barred. I am going to be over there, making sure nothing was damaged in your wardrobe and finishing putting everything back together,”

As she soaked in the bubbles and warm water, her mind wandered.

  _She was in the throne room of the past, kneeling before the cruel hearted blonde king. She was dressed in a beautiful pink gown. Her mother had made it for her. It was more grown up, fit for a woman flowered. She held her emotions in as he accused her brother of slaughtering good men and beguiling others with witchcraft and sorcery. She was being called unnatural and strange before being pulled up roughly by gentle hands, hands that never meant to hurt her, not like the others. Her foolish savior tried to save her the beating, mashing a melon over her head so that her hair was sticky and smelt of the summer fruit. Her peers laughed at her humiliation, and still, she held everything in._

_The false blonde king was angry again, and the fat, broad chested white knight with his flat nose and jowls was punching her in the stomach, the wind whistling out forcefully. The blunt edge of the sword being thwacked against her knees, knocking her down onto the cold, hard stone. Fat, grubby fingers gripping the beautiful silk of her gown, tearing it in one go. The entire court saw her budding chest, and no one spoke out._

_Petyr telling her that she looked so much like her mother, as his hands swept her hair back over her shoulder, fingers trailing along her collarbone. Petyr cupping her cheek and kissing dangerously close to her lips. Petyr brushing against her in the narrow corridors. Petyr growing bolder, visiting her chambers, sitting on the edge of her bed as he felt her cloth covered breast, sliding his hands down her body, gripping her thighs as his tongue forced itself down her throat. She held perfectly still, not breathing, not moving, praying that he would give up when she did not reciprocate. Her lungs strained for air, but he was still there, still touching her, leering at her, kissing her._

“Lady Sansa” Liv was holding her up by the elbows. She coughed up water, breathing ragged breaths. She had sunk down in the tub, nearly drowning herself in the memories and water. Liv was watching her with concern.

“Dozed off,” She murmured, sitting up straight so that Liv could let her go. The maid backed away slowly, picking a towel up from the seat.

“Are you finished?” Liv questioned, holding the towel aloft. She nodded and took the towel, standing. The water had gone cold while she sat trapped in her dreams. She wrapped herself up while Liv twisted her hair up into a different towel. She hadn’t meant to get it wet, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She felt drained in a way she had not felt since the past realm, down and tired. She gave excuses to Liv, though she doubted the maid believed them, and sent her away to tell the princess that she would not be present at dinner because of her fatigue.

Dressed in one of her oldest, but most comfortable cotton dressing gowns, she settled into her bed, under all the furs and blankets. She had her book, so she situated herself and opened it to the page she had last stopped on. She tried to read more about King Aerys, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

She drifted off shortly after.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short little fluff chapter. Thank you all for the comments and the insight. Sometimes I wonder if ya'll are psychic.

She woke from her tumultuous dreams to soft, moist breathing against her face. She feared for a moment that it was Littlefinger, but the breath smelt more of meat then it did mint. She was stifling hot, buried under her blankets, furs, and what she suspected to be a direwolf from the meat scented breath. She sat up slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes, and found that she had been mostly right. Instead of one direwolf however, there were two. Ghost was nudging her face, rubbing his face into hers. Lady watched unamused from the side. 

“Hi, Ghost” She whispered, patting his head and scratching his ears. Her fingers hit something though, and further investigation revealed a ribbon with a parchment scroll hidden within his white fur. It was too dark to read in the bed, so she padded over to her open window, where the moon was nearly full and provided adequate light. 

“ _Meet me in the Godswood if you feel up to it. Yours, J”_

She debated it over in her head, but her heart won out in the end. She would feel better if she saw him, she knew that she would. So she changed out of her old dressing gown and into a prettier green one with a matching robe. She slipped on her slippers and unbarred her door. Ghost followed her, but Lady stayed in her bed. She let the wolf lie.

Ghost led her to the Godswood in a roundabout way, no doubt avoiding the guards. The wolves were smart like that. The woods were quiet as she made her way to their usual spot. It was cooler out, a sign autumn was indeed approaching. Jon sat waiting for her under the tree. He stood when he caught sight of her.

“I was wondering if you would come,” He told her, patting Ghost as he praised his messenger skills, “Are you feeling better?” He questioned.

“I am now” She replied as she took his hand, leading him down to sit in the grass so that she might tuck herself in against him. He went willingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her further into him as she burrowed into his warmth.

“Are you truly well?” He questioned softly, his voice hinting at something deeper.

“Why?” She questioned.

“I had the strangest encounter with a maid this evening,” Jon commented, “A little wisp of a girl, fuming at the audacity of our guards and demanding that I seek justice,”

  
“Liv” She sighed heavily. She knew the girl would try something, but she had assumed she would take her concerns to Ser Brandon or Princess Daenerys, not Jon himself. 

“She is your handmaid, yes?” Jon questioned. She nodded against him, “Did something happen then? She would not go into details, only saying that I had to talk to you and that she was worried about you. She rambles a bit, she mentioned a bath and tears, and then you didn’t show for dinner, and Dany said you were tired. I was worried,” 

“And you say Liv, rambles” She teased, but her heart wasn’t in it. Jon heard it in her voice.

“Sansa, please, what happened?” He questioned, tilting her chin so that she was looking at him. His gray eyes were filled with concern, nothing more, nothing less.

“My chambers and my being were searched by the guards today for Brotherhood paraphernalia, I suppose, which I knew would occur, and respected that it had to,” She told him.

“You were supposed to be searched yesterday by Ser Dayne in the presence of a septa,” Jon told her, “Just as myself, Aegon, Dany, and your own brother were,”

“Ser Whent and two household guards searched, along with a Septa Morella.  They said it was because of the weapons that they found in my chambers,”

“Weapons?” Jon questioned in slight alarm.

“It was the dagger I won from Aegon all those moons ago, and a dagger and knife that I got from Ser Brandon’s training lesson a few days ago,” She told him. 

“What happened after?” He encouraged her softly. She debated on whether or not to tell him. Tears were already welling up behind her eyes though, and by the widening of his own, he could tell she was about to cry.

“They searched me. The two household guards looked for a mark while Ser Whent supervised and the Septa stood in the corner. One of them kept touching me lightly like it was an accident. They took their time looking while I stood naked before them. They thought my birthmark was the mark and called Whent over to investigate further. It’s a small birthmark that bears zero resemblance to the mark, on my thigh. The guard touched it, leaving his hand there while I standing like that, and I just lost it. Before the Septa could finish her sentence on how improper it was, I had slapped the guard. it was just so humiliating and improper, and they broke the vase I had put the flowers you gave me in, most of them were ruined” She was crying by the end of her story, babbling a bit in her emotional state. Jon wrapped his arms around her tightly and crushed her to his chest. He stroked her hair as she cried, whispering things like “It’s okay,” and “I’m so sorry,”

 When she regained her composure, Jon loosened his grip a bit but kept her in his arms. He brushed her hair back from her face and wiped a few tears from her cheeks.

“I am sorry that that happened, Sansa” He told her sincerely, “I assure you that that is not how the search was supposed to be conducted, and that I will be having words with the guards and my father,”

“It is not your fault”

“Not directly, but they are my family’s guards, and they violated you,” Jon brushed a thumb across her cheek, “They caused you harm, made you cry. That is not acceptable,”

“I overreacted,”

“No, even your maid witnessed something wrong about the search, and defied all proper decorum to yell at me in family wing,” Jon smiled faintly at the thought.

“I will talk to her about that in the morning,” She told him, though it would probably be just to thank her, “Did you all have a fine dinner in my absence?” She questioned, hoping to change the subject.

“It was fine, but it would have been better with you there,” Jon told her smoothly, “Arya and Daenerys were plotting on ways to cajole Ser Brandon into more lessons, and Aegon managed to speak a few words to me, though granted he was just asking for the gravy that was placed in front of me,” Jon told her. 

“He will move on in time,” She told him.

  
“I hope so” Jon replied.

“I had a letter from my father today,” She told him when the conversation fell into a comfortable silence, “He said the strangest thing,”

“Did he?” Jon looked adorably nervous.

“Relax, your Grace, I am not mad,” She told him, “Just curious on what it is you had to say to him that had to be sent post haste just after the attack,”

“I will admit that I was slightly frightened of him calling you back to the North in the wake of the attack,” Jon told her, “And I felt that it was my duty, as the one that asked for the courtship and brought you to the capital in the first place, to write to him to assure him of your continued safety while in the landing,”

“Is that it?”

“In summary, yes,” Jon shrugged.

“Well, whatever it is that you wrote, you managed to swing my father’s opinion. He wrote that he was at first wary of this courtship, but after reading the letter, he is fully supportive of it and whatever it leads to in the future,” 

“Is that what he wrote?” Jon questioned in gleeful surprise.

“In summary, yes” She teased him. Jon laughed and tickled her sides, causing her to laugh and squirm away from him. He had a good grip on her though, and she was struggling to breathe from laughing so hard after a few seconds, “I surrender,” She called.

“You have an infectious laugh, Lady Sansa,” He told her with a wide grin as she caught her breath. Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. They laid like that, his back against the tree and she slumped in his arms, for a few moments longer as they caught their breaths.

 It was peaceful to lie in the moonlit Godswood, listening to the bug singing around them. Dozens of guards were patrolling the corridors and watching the walls, and stretched beyond those walls laid a city that never slept, and yet it was quiet in the Godswood. The air has had a chill to it tonight but with her dressing gown and Jon’s warm body pressed beside her, she was barely cold. It reminded her of the North. When the sun set, quiet descended on the snowy grounds like a blanket. Even little Rickon quieted at night. She had forgotten how peaceful silence could be. In the past realm, silence meant death. It was to be feared not desired. Her fears and insecurities regarding tonight’s earlier incidence faded away. Here, right now in the Godswood with Jon beside her, she was safe. 

 _I am always safe with Jon_ , she told herself, failing to push away the small part of her brain that asked, _but is Jon ever safe with me?_


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later then I intended but an autosave issue and a mini panic attack occurred last week thanks to a power surge. This chapter is full of fluff and good times :) Thank you for continuing on with me. Get ready for the upcoming festival and all the crazy things that are bound to occur. This story will likely be longer than "A Second Chance" coming in at an estimated 40 chapters.

She woke up earlier than she had the day before. Liv was to blame for that. She drew the curtains open wide, letting in the bright morning sun. The maid was even whistling and humming, apparently in a good mood.

“Up and at them, Lady Sansa” She beckoned as she turned down the bed, “You have a busy day ahead of you with the princess and Lady Baratheon,” Liv told her as she groggily sat up in bed and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“A busy day?” She questioned blearily. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing with the princess and her sister. They had not told her anything.

‘Aye” Liv nodded, “Come, I’ve laid out a purple gown for you. Princess Daenerys wants you in the hall for breakfast in thirty minutes,” She grumbled as she got out of her warm bed and padded over to her wash basin to start her day while Liv made up her bed. She stripped out of her dressing gown, frowning a bit at the smudge of dirt on the hem from the Godswood. She barely remembered getting back to her chambers last night. She had probably fallen asleep.

 

“Ready?” Liv questioned as she stepped forth with a silky slip to pull over her head. She nodded and ducked to make Liv’s job easier. The lavender gown was made of the same silky material. It draped down low on her back and cinched at the waist with a navy belt she recognized from a different dress. Liv always made sure she looked good though, so she never questioned the fashion choices. The lavender and navy looked pretty together, she supposed. The girl pinned her up and to the side, telling her that it was too hot today for her hair to be worn down.

“Thank you, Liv,” She told her maid kindly, “And thank you for what you did last night. It was highly improper but appreciated” Liv blushed pink at her words, looking chastised, but still defiant and proud of her actions. She liked that about Liv. 

“You are welcome, my lady” She replied simply, “You should get moving before the princess seeks you out,”

“Of course. Have a pleasant day, Liv” She bade her as she left her chambers. She passed a few guards on her way to the hall but none paid her any particular mind. On the last leg of her journey, she took a corner too quickly and collided with a solid, unfamiliar chest. 

“Lady Sansa” A familiar voice greeted. 

“Lord Baelish” She replied as she stepped back several inches. She could smell the familiar scent of mint now. It was absent when she had first crashed into him. He was smiling at her. It made her feel as if bugs were crawling on her limbs, “Good morning” She managed to add in an effort to be polite.

“Good morning indeed” He answered, “And where are you off to in such a hurry this morning, my lady?”

“To the hall to break my fast with the princess,” She replied shortly, “I am afraid I am running late though, hence the hurry”

“Of course” Baelish grinned, “Let me escort you,” 

“No, please, you needn’t inconvenience yourself, my lord”

“It is no inconvenience to escort the daughter of one of my dearest friends,” Baelish replied as he took her arm without invitation, “And a beautiful young lady to boot”

“Thank you, Lord Baelish. It is very kind of you to do so,” She told him. If he could hear the false sincerity in her voice, he did not show it. If anything he looked intrigued. He was staring at her as if she were a puzzle to be solved. It was better than being looked at like a prize, she supposed.

‘How has the capital been treating you thus far, Lady Sansa?” He questioned as they walked, “I do hope that the recent incident has not marred your opinion of this beautiful capital city,” 

“Of course not, Lord Baelish” She answered, “The incident and its resolution have only strengthened my regard for the city, its inhabitants, and our royal family,”

“Yes, it was handled rather swiftly and in good form,” Baelish agreed. His words were awkward though. She looked at him but he tampered down whatever emotion was dancing across his features. However good she may get at reading faces and projecting her own masks, Petyr Baelish would always be better. He was a master manipulator. She just had to be wary of everything he did or said, “So close to the festival too. I am sure you and your brother are looking forward to the event. It is unrivaled by any other event in all of the kingdoms,” 

“Yes, we are quite excited,” 

“I do warn you though, it can get quite dicey. You would do well to stick to the guards, Lady Sansa, the festival can be dangerous for a beautiful noble born lady like yourself,” She lost her mask for a moment as she contemplated his words. Was that a threat or a simple warning? She managed to give him a weak smile, trying to look exasperated instead of concerned.

“As I have been told, Lord Baelish. I shall be diligent though,” She told him.

“Good. I would hate to see Cat’s daughter injured,” He replied quickly, “Here you are, Lady Sansa. Do enjoy your breakfast,” He bade her a quick farewell and left her at the entrance to the hall. Ser Brandon was guarding the entrance. It seemed he and Lord Baelish were still on rocky terms. It made her feel better.

“Good morning, uncle” She greeted warmly as she approached the hall.

“Good morning, niece,” He echoed, “Was Baelish giving you any trouble?”

“I daresay some ladies with a lesser intelligence find him charming but I find him simply lecherous. He has a gaze that wanders inappropriately, and a penchant for mentioning my mother far too often,” She told him in truth.

“You are an excellent judge of character, niece” Ser Brandon told her with a slight grin, “He is a slimy, slippery fellow that feeds on those of higher ground than him. A social climber, as the saying goes. That being said, he is an excellent financier for the crown. He has an uncanny ability to make a penny appear out of nothing. I would caution you to remain a safe distance from him in the future,”

“I will heed that advice, good ser” She answered as she waved goodbye and entered the hall. Her sister and Dany were huddled at one of the large tables. There was no one else in the hall with them.

“Ah, there you are” Dany called as she beckoned her forth. She took a seat next to her sister and grabbed a piece of bacon from the platter in front of her. A maid scurried forth with a full goblet for her a second later.

“Here I am” She replied after swallowing her food, “What was it that we were doing today that I apparently forgot?” 

“Rhaenys and Arianne are arriving from Dorne for the festival. They will be sailing in. My brother has given us permission to greet her at the docks,” Which meant leaving the castle, something that they hadn’t done since the execution, “And after we have a final fitting for the festival gowns, and then a girls’ night. Arya has even decided to attend,”

“Oh, has she?” 

“She promised that Arianne would teach me about poisons,” Arya told her with a grin, “Imagine the fear on Gendry’s face when he hears that I’ve learned about poisons and potions,” She exclaimed gleefully. She rolled her eyes at her sister. It sounded fun though. She had enjoyed Arianne’s presence before the two left suddenly after the initial attack.

“Perhaps I should tell Aegon of my knowledge of poisons too,” Dany mused aloud. Arya laughed at her. 

“We can make fake vials of the stuff, keep them in line,” Arya suggested. 

“You two are a bad pair together,” She told them as she sipped her tea. It was a spicy mix from Dorne. Dany was very fond of it.

“Poor Jon would probably offer to take the poison on his own if you ever attempted it. He would not want you to take the fall for killing him, lest your fragile soul be sent to the black cells,” Arya quipped. Dany snorted into her tea, laughing so hard that she was nearly crying. Arya was far too pleased with herself. If this was how the day and night was going to go, she would be driven to insanity before sunset. 

* * *

She was beyond surprised when upon seeing Princess Rhaenys for the first time since before the attack in the Antlers she was engulfed in a huge hug by the Dornish looking girl. Cinnamon and other spices she could not identify filled her nostrils as she was pressed quite firmly to the girls’ bosom. Rhaenys had barely tolerated her before she left, and now she was near weeping into her hair. 

“Rhae, let the girl breathe” Dany scolded as she, Arya, and Arianne sniggered at her luck.

“I am hugging her, not strangling her” Rhaenys retorted but pulled away none the less, “Thank you for caring for my little brother. Dany writes that you have been quite the nursemaid for little Jaemon,” She added with a waggle of her dark brows, “And that you’ve won several times now against Lya,” Ah, that was probably more the reason for admiration than caring, in a small amount, for Jon’s well being.

“It is good to see you in such high spirits, princess,” She told her instead. Rhaenys sighed dramatically. It seemed that Dorne had done her well.

“I will get the story out of you, or Dany” She promised, “Now tell me, what else have I missed?”

“I think we need wine for this conversation,” Dany told them, “Let us ride back to the castle and you shall be apprised of everything that has occurred since my last letter,” 

Over three cantors of wine, the entire sordid wedding arrangement was divulged to the two newcomers, and to Arya who had missed the key points of the story after leaving dinner early last night. Rhaenys was appropriately outraged at the pact on behalf of both Dany and Aegon, promising to have stern words with her father. Arianne, on the other hand, chose a lighthearted approach, in which she bemoaned the fact that Aegon was now off the market and that was surely going to be the only spinster of the group. It was the perfect balance of emotions to make Dany grin and laugh.

Once they were finished with the wine, Dany and she made their way to the dressmaker for their fittings, leaving Arya with the two Dornish princesses and a new cantor of wine. They promised to come back to the gardens after their fitting. They had to go to a different master for their mask fitting, which they had done earlier in the week while waiting for Buckwell to confess.

“I know you must have been confused by Rhaenys’ actions at the pier. She was a child of nearly four when Elia was murdered. She suffers from fits of tremors and fear whenever the Brotherhood is mentioned. She was inconsolable when she heard of the attack, so much so that my brother had to give her a sleeping draught to calm her down before he sent her to Dorne. She cares deeply for Aeg and Jaemon, and was quite upset that she had abandoned them. I told her that you were taking good care of Jon,” Dany told her softly as they made their way to the seamstress’s chambers. It certainly explained why the princess was so happy to see her, “She approves of you, you know,” 

‘I am glad to hear it,” She murmured. 

‘And though I think it is quite obvious, I approve of you as well,” 

“Subtlety is not your style, your Grace” She teased her. Dany laughed and shoved her shoulder.

“Oi” She complained, “I can be subtle when I wish to be” They laughed at the thought of her being subtle the entire rest of the walk to the chambers.

* * *

 

Standing in her gown with the pins mostly gone and the shape near perfect, she felt a swell of excitement for the upcoming festival. Next to her, in a gown of equally breathtaking caliber, Dany was grinning as well. They were both accustomed to wearing all sorts of fine clothing but the festival gowns were something else. There was a fantasy to them, something magical. It was more costume them clothing, and she loved it. From the color to the cut to the intricate details, the gown was far better than she could have imagined. She nearly protested when the seamstress had her take it off.

“Only two more days,” Dany told her, “I can see it in your eyes. I had the same look for my first festival,” She told her as she stripped out of her own gown. Several maids helped them do so carefully without messing up the alterations and marks that the seamstress had just painstakingly done. 

“It seems magical,” She told her honestly.

“It is,” Dany promised her. 

Dressed in their boring day dresses, they made their way back to the gardens. The three were still sitting there with their goblets, and now trays of finger foods. It looked like Rhaenys was teaching the two how to play cyvasse. She and Dany joined immediately. They did not know of her skill, so she paired with the princess for once, and they swept the floor as the saying went. It did not help that the other three were well into their cups, but it was a crushing defeat. By the time they were finished, it was getting dark and they were completely out of wine. So they made the decision to make their way inside to find more wine and perhaps some real food. Instead, they found a servant who was searching for them, handing a piece of parchment to Rhaenys who frowned a bit at it. 

“Father wants us all for dinner in the Great Hall,” She proclaimed. They were all a little too wine happy to be acceptable for dinner, especially Arya, Arianne and she who were not royals, but a direct invitation from the King was not something that they could turn down.

“Then I suppose we should go change and get ready,” 

“No, he wants us there now,” Rhaenys told them, showing her aunt the note. Dany frowned and shook her head. 

“I will meet you there” She promised them as she took off, no doubt just to cause friction with her brother. Rhaenys sighed but let her leave. 

“Well then, we must get going,” She told them and started walking to the Great Hall. With no other choice, they followed after her. 

The entire royal family was seated in the Great Hall, along with her brother and Gendry. They were the only ones missing, along with Daenerys. The men stood when they entered, the King smiling at his daughter whom he hadn’t seen in a week and a half. Rhaenys’ return grin was a bit too goofy with wine.

“Rhaenys, it is good to have you back,” The King greeted warmly as he embraced his daughter. The King was still a bit of a mystery to her, but it was clear that he loved his children deeply, if not a bit unequally. His eldest and only daughter seemed to be the favorite, she mused. It made sense since he had nearly lost her. Jon was the favorite of Lya, for obvious reasons, and so that left Aegon without. 

“Father” Rhaenys’ voice was muffled against his chest, “It is good to be back,” She told him as she pulled away. She smiled slightly at her step mother who was still seated, “Lya,”

“Rhaenys, welcome back” Her Aunt replied with the same slight smile upon her face. Rhaenys nodded at the pleasantries, then moved onto her brothers. She embraced Aegon with gusto, kissing his cheeks like he was a child. Aegon smiled the first true smile she had seen since the marriage was announced as he lifted her off of her feet. Rhaenys had promised Daenerys not to bring the arrangement up at dinner. Seeing the two together she realized how truly different Jon did look from his siblings. No wonder it had been a sore spot as a child. Aegon and Rhaenys were both darker skinned like their mother but willowy and lean like their father. Even though Aegon’s hair was as light as Rhaenys was dark, they looked like kin.

“Jaemon” Rhaenys exclaimed as she hugged him tightly. Jon hugged back with less gusto than Aegon but still held on just as tight. Rhaenys pulled away and tilted his chin, looking at the scar that had formed on his face. She frowned deeply, looking quite troubled by it.

“I am fine” Jon assured her as he patted the hand on his face, “Honestly, Rhaenys, it was barely a scratch,” But his sister looked apprehensive. She sighed heavily and kissed his cheeks once more. 

“I am relieved to see you relatively well,” She told him, “Lord Robb, I heard you were injured worse than my brother. I trust that you are feeling much better if you are joining us for supper?”

“I am well recovered, princess” Robb told her.

“Good, I am pleased to hear it,” Rhaenys replied, ‘And cousin Gendry, how lovely it is to see you again,” 

‘And you, princess” Gendry replied gruffly. She kept forgetting that Gendry was the son of a Targaryen, that the Baratheon’s and Targaryen’s were close in this realm. It was strange to think of, honestly. 

“Well, now that greetings have been exchanged, let us sit. I am sure my sister will grace us with her presence when she is ready. I heard that you ladies had a day for yourselves in the gardens,” The King smirked slightly. 

“We did indeed, father” Rhaenys proclaimed with a playful grin.

“Let me help you” Aegon pulled her chair for her when she stumbled a bit. Robb graciously pulled her seat out for her as Gendry did the same for Arya and Jon for Arianne.

The King kept the conversation light as they worked their way through the first few courses, which she was thankful for since she was having a hard time following it. Robb kept chuckling behind his hand as he watched her struggle to keep up. He mainly spoke of the festival and of the merchants and vendors that he knew to be participating in the event. He was apparently quite excited for a particular vendor from Essos who brought sheet music from the Free Cities.

‘Well, I for one am most eager to see that vendor from Pentos that sells those exquisite vials of perfumed oil,” Rhaenys told them, apparently a little looser tongued when inebriated “I am nearly out from the last festival. I shall have to stock up this time, or perhaps my family was in need of name day ideas,” She hinted with a grin.

“You have more than enough coin to buy them for yourself, sister” Aegon teased her, “And your name day was only a few moons ago,”

“It is so much nicer to get things as gifts though, Aeg. It makes it more special,” Rhaenys told him with a rather unladylike snort, “If you cannot grasp that idea, then I pity the poor lady who” She broke off awkwardly, as if just remembering that he was engaged, and that the poor lady in question was her aunt, and that no one was quite pleased with the arrangement, “Oh, my apologies,” She finished demurely, looking everywhere but at her brother. 

“No apology necessary,” Aegon replied stiffly, “I suppose the bride to be informed you of the happy news,”

“She did, yes” Rhaenys nodded, “Congratulations,” She added a second late, sounding just as tense as the atmosphere in the room felt.

“I am sorry to upstage your wedding, but really, I had no choice in the matter,” Aegon continued sarcastically. She watched the king’s face as the scene unfolded. He had a pinched expression on his face as he watched his son and daughter converse. Lyanna looked worried beside him. Everyone else looked uncomfortable, “It was decided for me,” He added, looking between his brother and his father.

‘And now I’ve decided that we will change the topic of conversation,” The King told them all, “Security for the festival,”

The King went over in great lengths all the measures that had been taken to secure the city for the events. Everyone coming into the city was searched and inspected. No weapons larger then a dagger were being allowed in, and only those that had reason to carry such a weapon were allowed to. Noble families from all over the realm were coming to the festival, along with several hundred expected foreigners from across the sea. There would be a ship display, and wares from all over the world. King Rhaegar cautioned them on eating things that seemed suspicious and accepting drinks from strangers instead of directly from the stalls. 

“It is not likely that you will be recognized nor is it entirely likely that you will be able to the guards completely,” King Rhaegar told them, “I am telling this to our newcomers. My children and sister might think that they have evaded their guards but they are never too far behind. In addition to the Kingsguard being on watch, household guards are stationed in every major courtyard and gate. They will all be wearing blue feathered masks this year. If you need assistance of any sort, approach them and give them the safe word, which I will tell you on the morning of the festival,”

“We know all of this, father, you tell us every year” Aegon complained.

‘But our guests do not,” King Rhaegar returned, “As I was saying, if you find yourself in need of help, seek them out. I trust that all of you, my own children included, will conduct yourselves in a manner befitting your station,” With the lecture out of the way, they tucked into their main course. Daenerys was still absent from the table. Rhaenys was regaling her father, Lyanna, and Aegon with stories of her time spent in Dorne. Arya and Gendry were whispering amongst themselves.

“I guess I shall have to procure a new mask, lest someone mistakes me for a guard” Robb stated, “What color were you wearing again, sister?” It had been a game for a while now, trying to get someone to divulge the colors they were planning to wear.

“That wasn’t even subtle, Robb” She replied.

“We all know Jon will be in black. And how about you, Princess Arianne?” Robb questioned, engaging the girl in conversation. She had looked a bit out of place despite being a cousin to the royal family.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Lord Robb” Arianne winked. 

‘For safety purposes, someone should know what you look like,” Robb reasoned, “Encase you find yourself needing assistance,” 

“Then I shall look for a guard,” Arianne retorted, “Besides, Rhaenys knows what I will be wearing,”

“As does Princess Daenerys for mine,” She told her brother, “Perhaps you and Jon can be festival friends and look out for one another,” She teased.

“I needn’t look too far for you, sister. That hair is like a fiery beacon, I need not know what color you’ll be wearing,” He replied with a smirk. 

‘You have the same color hair,” Jon pointed out. Robb looked mock outraged for a moment before he laughed and the conversation continued. Robb was speculating that Jon would wear black, which Arianne said that he did every year, but so did half of the city. This would be Arianne’s fourth festival. When dinner came to an end, Rhaenys suggested that they all go freshen up before meeting in her chambers for their girl’s night in one hour. Before she could look to Jon for an escort, her brother stepped in with a grin.

“I shall walk with you, sister’ He told her as she glared at him. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Thank you, brother” She managed to retort. He took her arm and led her from the room rather quickly. She stumbled over the hem of her gown in his haste.“You are becoming quite the lush, Sans” He teased as he slowed his pace now that they were out of the dining hall. 

“You are becoming quite the lush, Sans” He teased as he slowed his pace now that they were out of the dining hall. 

“Is there a reason you wanted to walk with me?”

‘No, just ensuring your safety is all” He replied, grinning again. He did not speak as they made their way to her chambers, which was strange. She was tipsy enough not to care though. Robb would do what Robb wanted to do, namely, annoy her. He left her at the door to her chambers without a backward glance, hustling off to wherever it was he had to be next. She sighed at his actions and entered her room.

The scent hit her first. It smelt like a garden in her room, overwhelming and intoxicating. Then she took in the dozens of flowers that now decorated her chambers.  They were all over the place, bouquets covering her mantle, vanity table, and wardrobe. Colorful blooms spread far and wide as far as she could see. Her bed featured the best arrangement though. Draped from the four poster bed were dozens upon dozens of blue winter roses, hanging like a canopy.

She realized as she went to each little arrangement that they were many of the same flowers that Jon had already given her, only in full bouquets this time instead of singular flowers. She could not find a single day’s flower missing. The only single bloom sat on her bed along with a little note card.

“ _I cannot replace those which were lost, but perhaps these will put a smile on your face. Yours, Jon,”_

She picked up the new flower and twirled it around. It was fuchsia pink and elegant looking. She tucked it behind her ear quickly and started unlacing her gown. She had to try to find Jon to thank him before she was expected in Rhaenys’ chambers. 

“Ah, you have seen” Liv appeared in her chambers beaming at the creation before her. She had no doubt that her maid had been a helpful hand in creating this masterpiece. Liv noticed her haste in getting undressed, and quickly stepped into help, “In a hurry?” She questioned innocently.

“I must thank the prince before I am stuck in a chamber of princesses and my sister. It is only the polite thing to do,” She told the girl, who smiled knowingly. She ceased speaking though and unlaced her quickly, much easier then when she had tried.

Liv had her cleaned up, fresh, and in a new navy dress within five minutes, claiming it made the pink flower stand out more. She deftly undid the pins in her hair and plaited it neatly within three minutes. She promised to bring her dressing gown for the night to the princess’ chambers, and quite literally shoved her out of her chambers, helpfully adding that she believed that the prince would be in the Godswood, in their usual place. Jon must have told Liv to tell her encase she was looking for him. Unless everyone in the castle knew about their little hiding place. It wasn’t much of a secret anyways. She made her way quickly to the Godswood, aware that she only had so much time left before she was expected to be with the girls. She was near running, or as close to it as possible without looking like a complete loon. 

When she found him she crashed into him in a voracious hug that was quite unladylike and definitely not courtship sanctioned. He barely managed to catch her before they both toppled over, but righted himself and hugged her back just as tightly. She nosed her way up his jaw before finding his lips and kissed him fiercely.

“Thank you,” She told him sincerely when they were both breathless and had to pull away for air. She dropped back down onto her feet. He had been holding her up since she had crashed into him. 

“You liked them then?” He questioned, just as breathless as she. She grinned and nodded.

 ‘I loved them” She told him as she bent to kiss him once more, “They were the best thing anyone has ever done for me” She kissed him again, “Really,” Another kiss, ‘Truly, the best” Another kiss. 

“I should woo you more often then,” He teased as he nipped at her neck.

“You woo me every day,” She retorted.

“I wish you did not have a girl’s night planned, whatever that is,” He sighed, “We’ll only have a few minutes together,”

“But I have to go tell them all about my wondrous gift. It will make them all quite jealous, believe me. None of their suitors have done such a thing that I know of,” 

“I doubt Arya will be jealous of a hundred flowers,”

“No, no doubt you will get teased by her tomorrow,”

“Your brother’s teasing is already enough,” Jon replied with a chuckle, “I should have known better than to ask him to help me,”

 “He did?”

“And your maid, Liv. We just procured the flowers really, Liv was the decorator. Robb wanted to scatter them across the room, but then remembered that you were his sister and thought it was too romantic, then decided I should not even be in your chambers, so we brought everything to Liv, I told her the gist of it, and she did the rest,”

“I still love it,” She told him. She could only imagine the afternoon her poor maid had spent between Jon and Robb and a hundred flowers. She would have to buy the girl a gift at the festival for all of her hard work, “How did you remember all the flowers that you had given me already?”

“I write them down, else you’d be getting a blue rose every day” He admitted, “Maegor’s has an encyclopedia of flowers in the library. I borrowed it awhile back. They had descriptions and meanings of the flowers. I just pick the ones that look pretty or have a good meaning,” 

“It is very sweet of you,” She told him, kissing away his awkwardness at having admitted such a thing. She thought it was sweet of him to admit it to her and to do it in the first place. Other men would have simply asked the maester or the gardener, or make up meanings because she certainly did not know them all. Jon went through the trouble of finding a book, looking up dozens of flowers and picking those that meant something to him. 

They spent the remainder of their time together stealing kisses from each other and planning to sneak out tomorrow to spend more time together. She managed to extract that Aegon was still being cold and she told him that Daenerys was still rather upset. She promised him that Aegon would warm up, he had to. Her words were just words though. Jon was right. Targaryen men had gone to war for less. She certainly did not need that happening. She doubted Dany would let it get that far though. 

Hair mused, dress wrinkled, and swollen lips stretched into an unwavering smile, she left Jon in the Godswood to find her sister and the princesses. He stayed behind in the Godswood with his book. She promised to try to sneak back later if the girls passed out before hand. He wished her luck in that endeavor, warning her that Dany could drink them all under the table. 

The teasing that she received after arriving late was well worth it, even if Arya did threaten to tell their brother


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the festival begins! Thank you all for your continued patience with my slow updates and your kind words.

She looked like something out of a fairytale, she thought, as Liv tied the thin silver ribbon in a bow behind her. The mask was a delicate thing, crafted in the knick of time to her and princess Daenerys’ specific instructions. The artisan had created something she could have never even fathomed. Her entire outfit for the festival was something she could scarcely believe she was wearing. It was not made solely of flowers and silk nor glass and Myrish lace. It did not make her look like Jonquil or the kind Queen Alysanne. No, she looked more like Nymeria or Visenya, a hardened warrior princess.

The gown was a beautiful mix of steel, sparkles, and silk. The steel sat on her shoulders, dipping down to her navel in an artistic reimagining of a breastplate. It was inlaid with diamonds and onyx gems, flowers and vines carved into the priceless steel. From there it draped down her figure in wisps of teardrop shaped silk that looked like scales, ending in a skirt that had just the slightest hint of a train. She did not want others trotting on her gorgeous gown after all. It was the color of a misty midsummer’s morning when the sun was hidden behind the clouds, the sky was a muted blue. It was not quite the gray of house stark nor the blue of a winter rose, but a mixture of the two. It was demure but utterly captivating.  The mask matched the breastplate and covered her eyes and her left cheek. It was Valyrian steel, lightweight and cool against her skin. Daenerys claimed that it came from a melted down candle sconce. Instead of bracelets or sleeves, she wore fashionable half gauntlets made of silk, lace, and steel bits.

 “You look beyond beautiful, Lady Sansa,” Her maid told her kindly as she passed her a vial of perfume. It was vanilla and lemon. She applied it quite liberally to her wrists, neck, and behind her ears, “You will be the talk of the festival in this gown,” 

“Thank you,” She murmured, watching herself in the looking glass. She did not look like soft, naïve little Sansa Stark. Had Cersei ever seen her in this gown, she would have been feared not tortured. 

“I must warn you, my lady, the festival can get rough. You must watch yourself,” Liv told her, gazing seriously upon her, “You know what my mask looks like and my gown is green. Should you need anything, look for me. I know people,”

She knew that the festival was one giant party where class and status played no role. It got rough at points, which is why she was counseled extensively to stay in designated areas so that there were guards enough to protect her. Royals and nobility before she had made the mistake of getting amorous with lowly sorts, leading to scandal and strange marriages according to Daenerys, whose sage advice was to be careful about lifting your skirts to men in royal colored attire. Apparently, there would be many imposters tonight. The actual royals had guards assigned to them but it was easy to escape, according again to Daenerys. She had prepared herself with two daggers hidden on her person and her stolen throwing knives. They had been returned to her by Jon yesterday afternoon.

“That is very kind of you,” She told her sweet maid. She enjoyed the girl's company especially at moments like this, “Perhaps I shall see you out there, I do so wish to see your gown with the mask on,” 

“I pale in comparison to you, my lady” The girl smiled, “If I may?” She drawled, looking towards the balcony where the sun had nearly risen to midday. The girl needed time to get ready.

“Of course,” She nodded, “Have fun, I do hope to see you there,”

“Me too, my lady” She curtsied quickly and was out of the room in a flash. Now alone, she pondered leaving the castle. The festival would begin at noon which according to the sun was quite soon. Of course, the bells would announce the beginning of the festival, which would be rung as soon as the king hit Baelor’s. From that point on, many would try to appeal to the king, and then get drunk. By all standards, it was a holiday created to roam freely through the city and imbibe in things that you normally would not be able to imbibe in. 

She threw a dark cloak over her gown and pulled the top up to hide her face. It was always a game to see who could get out of the castle unnoticed, according to her silver-haired friend. Even the princes and princesses tried to go unnoticed. Daenerys was vibrating with excitement yesterday over it. She planned to use her dragon in an elaborate scheme of some sort. She hadn’t questioned it fully. She had seen dozens of dragons in the sky this morning. They had been let loose for the festival, another tradition.

She sat on the edge of her bed, focusing on Lady. A moment later she was padding through the corridors on four paws. There were masked men lining the halls. Guards, she realized as she caught the scent of her uncle. Even the guards were disguised.  She took a moment to look them over, to memorize what they wore. Her uncle wore a wolfs mask made of ivory and blue feathers.  She kept going, making her way to her own chambers. The corridors near her room were empty. She had planned her route out of the castle carefully. There were a few secret passages that she knew well enough, and then some more that Lady had sniffed out. She slipped back into her own skin and set out on the path she had thought out. She was halfway through a narrow servant’s corridor when she heard footsteps on the stone. She slipped into an alcove, trying her best to disappear. She could only hope whoever it was had bigger things to do than search the nooks and crannies for errant ladies.

It wasn’t a person though. It was a familiar white wolf. Ghost nosed around until he was pressing his snout into her stomach. 

“Hey, buddy” She murmured, petting his ears, “You had better not be cheating,” She told the wolf, looking into his eyes. He watched her curiously though his manner was pure wolf, no human. She caught sight of the wrapped parcel in his mouth then, reaching her hand out for it. He let it go easily.

She unwrapped the paper, revealing a box with a piece of paper on top. She unfolded it carefully, reading the words with some difficulty in the dimly lit hallway.

“ _Find me at Visenya’s Hill at high noon, J. PS, I am not cheating”_ She grinned as she read the words. She tucked the note into her sleeve and opened the box. She gaped at the pieces of jewelry nestled within. They were wrist bracelets, like gauntlets but inlaid with pearls and etchings of dragons and wolves. They shimmered like nothing she had ever seen, leading her to believe that they were made of Valyrian steel like her mask. She shucked off the ones she had been wea ng, and slid these ones on. They fit perfectly. She kissed Ghost on the snout.

‘Thank you” She told the wolf, “Now go,” She swatted his backside lightly. He gave her a glare but trotted off. She had sent her own wolf to the shadows. They were too well known to be seen in public. It would give her away. She went the rest of her route without issue, slipping out of the castle while the guards pretended not to look. She knew that they saw her, but honestly, what did she expect? It was hard to sneak out of the castle. That was a good thing. Now they knew what she was wearing at least. No one tried to stop her or question her.

She dissolved into the crowd of similarly dressed people, letting them lead her. She ebbed and flowed with the group until she found herself quite a distance from the castle. She felt at ease though. People were everywhere, but there was no ill emotion in the air. Everyone was laughing and drinking and having a grand time. She took a few of the pennies she had brought with her and bought herself a goblet of ale from a street vendor. She toasted the older woman with a grin and downed it like a commoner before a man next to her bought her another. She let him, toasted him, then drank again. He cheered to her and then left on his way. She took her goblet of ale and continued on hers. 

Everywhere she looked there were people in masks and elaborate gowns. Not all of them were nobles or royal, but majority looked the part tonight. She knew that many saved for the entire year to appear as such. There were street vendors touting new and exotic things, like spiced lemon rum from Dorne and sweet apples covered in sticky caramel from the Reach. The entire realm seemed to descend onto the city.

“A rose for you, beautiful” A man with a large bouquet of yellow roses told her, holding out a particularly vibrant bloom. There was a wake of women in his path with roses in their grip. She accepted it from him.

“Thank you” She tried her best to sound like she was playing at a royal accent. The man seemed to buy it, grinning at her as he continued on his merry way. She tucked the plume into her belt and continued on her own path. In the distance, she heard the bells ringing at the church, signaling the King and Queen’s arrival.

She picked up her pace, zigzagging through the crowd. A few times she was deterred by a drunk trying to dance or chat, and then she spent a minute helping a younger girl tie her mask back to her face. She was offered more food and wine and ale, and she walked past no less than five street performers singing the joys of the day. Everything was so bright and happy and alive.

When she reached the bottom of the hill, she found more people than she had ever imagined. They were all cheering for the King and Queen, who she could vaguely see in the distance. With a little maneuvering, she managed to slip through the crowd, making good headway. The dragons screeched overhead, circling the area. She could vaguely hear the King welcoming everyone to the festival and wishing luck on all those surrounding him. Men and women yelled his praise mixed in with requests and suggestions.

She didn’t hear it when he announced it, but then the crowd was cheering long lives to Daenerys and Aegon, and she knew that their engagement had been revealed. Everyone seemed thrilled with the idea, and talk of a royal wedding swept through the group. Some people threw rice and what looked like parchment paper into the air. Pieces of it pelted her face, but she just brushed it off.

She searched the crowd for Jon as she went but saw no one that even resembled him. Everyone had a mask on, and everyone was dressed in their finest. She knew that she would recognize him, so she figured he wasn’t quite there yet. Perhaps it had taken him longer to get out of the castle. She jumped about a foot when hands went around her waist, pulling her close to a hard chest. The scent of pine and something spicy filled her nostrils. 

“This is very presumptuous of you, good ser,” She told the person, grinning as he spun her around to face him. He wore gray with a black mask, his hair slicked back instead of freely curled. He looked dashing.

“Oh, my apologies, I thought you were someone else,” He teased her. She laughed as she leaned in to kiss him freely. No one censored them or called them out for being inappropriate. A few brazen citizens catcalled and clapped his back as they passed, “You looked beautiful,” He told her when he pulled away.

“And you look very mysterious,” She told him, tracing the line of his black mask, “How did you find me so quickly?” She questioned.

“This” He twirled a strand of her red hair around his finger, tugging lightly, “And these” He tapped on her gauntlets. 

“I love them, by the way,” She kissed him again, “Thank you,”

“My pleasure” He answered, “Shall we go enjoy our freedom?” He questioned, gesturing to the crowd before them. She did not hesitate to nod. He grabbed her hand and tugged her further into the crowds. His father was conducting his open court now; people were lining up in single file to speak with him. They bypassed that though, heading towards a makeshift stage were street bards were playing harps and banjos and flutes. People were dancing wildly. She doubted Jon had been aiming for that, but once she saw it she knew she had to try it. She tugged him towards it. He groaned when he saw the destination.

“Come on, it will be fun” She whispered, “We can dance like them” She gestured to where a man and a woman were dancing very provocatively and closely to one another. Jon went easily after that. 

He was still stiff in his dance moves, but it felt amazing to brush up against him without worrying about it, to pull him closer without fear of being seen. The bards eventually switched to a Dornish song that Jon was familiar with. He pulled her flush against him as he led her through the steps, dipping her low when the music dictated. They paired well together. The crowd cheered for them. 

Breathless, they left the makeshift dance floor and wandered to a stand selling skins of wine. Jon bought two with a couple pennies, toasting her. 

“To a fun day” 

‘To a fun day,” She echoed, downing the sour red mix. It was nothing like any red she had tasted before. She took another sip though, and then another after that. It seemed stronger than the usual stuff. She felt warmth flush her cheeks. 

“What shall we do next?” He questioned as he led her through the crowds. 

“I do not know” She shrugged, “Are they painting people’s faces over there?” She questioned, pointing to a booth where two women were creating swirls of glitter and color on portions of faces left bare from masks and along skin free of cloth. She had never seen such a thing before.

“They do that for those that cannot afford masks or those that simply like the look of it,” Jon told her, “But one must be wary of what they use in those potions to make such colors” He advised. 

“Oh, I suppose that is true” She wrinkled her nose a bit, “Shall we go investigate into what smells so heavenly?” She questioned, getting a whiff of something sweet and cloying. It smelt like freshly baked cinnamon buns.

“You are going to love it,” Jon told her, apparently knowing what it was already. He led her over to another stall where merchants were peddling their wares. It was a young boy and his older sister or mother. There was a huge vat of steaming liquid in front of them, which was emanating that delicious scent she had smelt a second ago. 

“Two please,” Jon told the woman, passing her coins again. The woman took two small wooden bowls out and ladled some of the mixture into them. She passed it to them carefully.

“Aye, wait, we’ll join ya” A man with several other men and women told them before she could taste the golden colored mixture. The new man tossed several coins at the woman who eagerly started ladling more, “Better luck this way,” 

“Aye, I agree” Jon nodded. She scooted closer to him so that their new friends could take their rough wooden bowls as well.  There were five of them in total, three women and two men.

“It’s called capital brew; it’s only made in the festival season. You drink it down quickly in one go for luck. Just tilt your head and toss it back” He told her quietly, grinning, “But first we have to toast again,” The festival seemed like a lot of toasting, “He’ll toast to everyone” He whispered, pointing to the guy who had first spoken.

“To our brothers and sisters in the capital and throughout Westeros” The man toasted first, holding up his bowl.

“To a long, prosperous autumn” Jon returned, holding his bowl up. He nudged her quietly.

“And a short winter” She toasted.

“To our King and Queen,”

“And to the heir in his new marriage,”

“To the sick and disabled,”

“To the old and the weak,” 

“To us, may we have better luck this year than last” The first man finished. Everyone tapped their bowls together then tipped their bowls back, downing the liquid. She was clumsy with it, nearly choking on the cloying taste. It was strong stuff. She bit back her cough and tried to look not so disgusted by it. It must have shown through. The first guy looked at her and laughed.

“First festival shot?” He questioned not unkindly. 

“Aye” She nodded.

“Best way to get used to it is to have another” The man declared, “Wench, another round,” He told the woman.

“No, that’s-” Jon stopped her from speaking by putting a hand over her mouth. The men and women laughed.

 “Tis bad luck to refuse an offered drink at the festival,” One of the women told her as she took her bowl back to refill. 

“Who am I to damn all of our luck then?” She replied with an easy shrug. The woman laughed and passed her another full bowl of the golden liquid. This time the toasts were shorter and more superficial. They were laughing as they downed the second round of the brew. It did not burn as badly this time. She managed to keep the grimace off of her face. Of course, now that the man had bought them a round of drinks, Jon felt the need to buy them a round. So they went a third time. At that, they called it the end, wished each other well in their lives and ambled away from the women and her young son in good spirits. 

She was walking through the crowds with Jon, enjoying the sight and scents of the scene before her when it struck her how perfect things were. She stopped, causing Jon to stop and look back at her curiously. She smiled before she tugged him in, kissing him in the middle of the crowd like a wanton woman. Jon smiled against her lips though and pulled her closer to him, kissing her back with equal fervor. Again, they received catcalls and shouts but no admonishing. Jon pulled away first, grinning. 

“What was that for?” He questioned. 

“Because I could” She replied tartly.

“Come on, I’ve got more to show you,” He brought her to the bazaar that they had once visited a few weeks ago. It was lively once more, people pedaling everything and anything you could ever want. She purchased a string bracelet that she tied around Jon’s wrist, just above the leather one he still wore from Storm's End. It had been her favor to him for the jousting, and his in the past realm. It warmed her heart to see it still attached to his wrist. He bought a little pouch of berries that they made a mess out of, trying to toss them into each other's mouths until they were all out. The majority ended up on the ground, but some had made it in Jon’s mouth, staining his lips a bluish purple. After that snack, he led her to a merchant who was selling flower crowns. He bought her a blue one, settling it on her head like a real crown. They were not winter roses, but little blue flowers with yellow centers.

“They are called forget me nots” Jon told her as they continued on their aimless path, “So that you may always remember this day,”

“I shall,” She told him honestly, “I look forward to celebrating it again next year, and the year after that, and so forth. I feel cheated that I had never heard of this in the North all the years that I’ve been alive” She admitted.

“So you admit that the capital is better than the North?” He teased. She laughed, shoving his shoulder.

“Not even if the seven hells froze over, ser” She retorted.

“Language, lady” 

They were back near Baelor’s. People were still lined up to see the King and Queen. She could see them clearly now. They both wore cream-colored outfits, very innocent and demure. Their faces were the only unmasked ones in the vicinity. Majority of the people pleading their cases looked happy as they walked off of the stage, while a few looked upset. 

“They try to grant everything within their power” Jon whispered against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. It sent shivers down her spine. She leaned back into his embrace, enjoying it as long as she could.

“It is a very kind cause” She replied.

“We try” Jon answered, “Stay here a second, I’ll be right back,” He told her. She nodded, not bothering to ask where he was going. He probably had to relieve himself or something similar. She figured he had led her back to this area where there were guards for that reason. It was very protective of him. She watched a younger looking male approach the royals and kneel. He removed his mask. She watched as the King stood quickly, pulling the Queen backward. Before the guards could intervene, an explosion rang out. It hit close to where the King and Queen were standing, engulfing the area in green flames and smoke. The effect was instantaneous. Screams rang out throughout the open area, and people started to flee as the festival descended into chaos.

“Jon!” She screamed, searching the area for him. She had not even watched him leave to see which direction he had gone. She could not see him now in the chaotic crowd. Everyone was blurring together in a race to escape the green flames. Someone knocked into her hard, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Her knees hit the stone hard, her hands scraping against the rough stone to lessen the blow. She tried to get back up, but her knees shook and she was knocked over once more by the stampede. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is about to get real, y'all :) Let me know what you think in the comments below


	22. Chapter 22

_“Jon!” She screamed, searching the area for him. She had not even watched him leave to see which direction he had gone. She could not see him now in the chaotic crowd. Everyone was blurring together in a race to escape the green flames. Someone knocked into her hard, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Her knees hit the stone hard, her hands scraping against the rough stone to lessen the blow. She tried to get back up, but her knees shook and she was knocked over once more by the stampede._

Someone grabbed her hand, pulling her up off of the ground and into their sculpted chest. She saw blue paisley silk and a feathered orange mask. 

“Come on, Sansa” She knew that voice. It wasn’t Jon. Aegon had her hand in his. He was tugging her away from the scene, towards the Red Keep, “We have to get to safety, now” He tugged until she stumbled along with him.

“We have to find Jon, he was just here,” She told him, searching the crowds desperately. All she saw was fear on unfamiliar faces though. Guards were closing in now, swords drawn. People were running with singed looking hair and sooty faces. She tried to stop Aegon from leaving the area where she had last seen Jon but he was pulling her too hard. He was too strong for her to break free from. 

“Shit” She heard Aegon swore and then she saw why. There were other men heading their way with black masks and black cloaks. They had swords drawn but did not look friendly. Aegon sidestepped and pulled her down a quiet alleyway, shoving her into an empty courtyard when he found it. There was no one there. The buildings around them were quiet, the occupants probably halfway across the landing, enjoying the festivities. Aegon was panting for breath. 

“Who were they?” She questioned breathlessly. 

“I do not know” He replied, shaking his head, “Did you see the explosion?” 

“Wildfire” She answered, “Green flames,”

“Did it look like it hit my father? Lyanna?”

‘I do not know” She shrugged, “We have to find Jon and Robb and Daenerys,” She listed a few, "My sister and Gendry" She had nearly forgotten about her Stormland visitors. She had no doubt in Arya's ability to defend herself, and she knew that Gendry had been to the festival and the capital city many times before. She was not concerned for them. Robb was a real concern though. He was willful and eager to prove himself strong, not to mention his hero complex, he could be seriously injured trying to get away. 

“No, we have to get to a safe point, we have to find guards. Jon would never forgive me if something were to happen to you,” Aegon told her seriously, “We have no weapons or armor, and clearly, this was well planned,” He was pacing the little courtyard.

 “Do you think it’s the brotherhood?” She questioned.

“I don’t know” He sighed, “Come on, we-”

He never finished his sentence. A man with a jagged sword and a broken black mask crashed into their little hideout. He grinned when he saw them. 

“Orange and gold and blue,” He crooned, looking at Aegon’s outfit, “Methinks I found the one we were looking for,”

“Who are you?” Aegon questioned, stepping in front of her bravely. She pressed her dagger into his palm. It had been hidden in her skirts for safety. She never imagined having to use it though. His hand tightened around it curiously. He was surprised that she was armed. The man snorted at Aegon's bravado.  

“Who I am?” He questioned, “The better question is, who are you?” 

“Aegon Targaryen, son of Rheagar. Prince of the Seven Kingdoms” Aegon answered proudly.

“Good, now be an even better lad while I kill you, and maybe I’ll let your whore live,” The man stated before lunging, sword drawn. Aegon shoved her out of the way while dodging the man’s blade. He side stepped and lunged a few times but it only served to further anger their attacker. He lashed out with the blade when the man got closer. The man howled and charged forward, knocking Aegon down. He punched him a few times, toying with him. Blood splattered from his nose at it broke, but Aegon still tried to fight back. The man slammed his wrist into the cobblestone ground. The dagger flew out of Aegon’s hand.

“No” She screamed as he raised the sword, jumping at his back before he could deliver the final blow. It threw him off long enough for Aegon to scrambled away. He was crawling and bloody, but he looked determined. His mask had fallen off, revealing a hard face set in grim determination. The man was focused on her now though. He was stalking towards her.

“Stupid little whore, aren’t you?” He growled, “Or not a whore. That’s a pretty little outfit you have. But with that hair, you are no Targaryen. Tell me your name, pretty, and I might let you live,” The man backed her into a corner. She was pressed against the stone wall of the courtyard. Aegon was pulling himself to his feet, staggering. He was more grievously injured then she thought. He could barely stand.

‘Alayne” She told him strongly, “My name is Alayne Stone, I work for Petyr Baelish,”

“Littlefucker, aye?” The man questioned, “Your job was to distract him, not play hero. Stay out of my way whore, or I kill you and tell your boss,” He smacked her across the face, her mask falling off as she tumbled to the ground. Aegon let out a war cry as he gathered the strength to heft a potted plant from the courtyard and smash it into the back of the man's thick head. The man growled and faltered, but managed to twirl on his heel to face Aegon, face full of rage. She scrambled to her feet, dagger in her hand but the man was too strong and too quick. He slashed the blade through Aegon’s unguarded stomach, the sound of metal against flesh making a squelching noise as Aegon gaped. Blood spluttered from the wound wildly. 

“No!” She screamed as she dove on the man’s back again, the dagger finding purchase in the back of his neck. The man gurgled and went down to his knees. Aegon slumped over, clutching his stomach. His lilac eyes were wide with surprise still. She let the man drop and went to him. There was blood dribbling from his lips, staining his teeth. He was far too pale.

“Stay with me,” She whispered, pressing her hands to the wound. She tore off her sleeves, using them as a dressing and tying them tightly. The blood coated her fingers and metal gauntlets, warm and sticky. Aegon stared at her, purple eyes searching, “You’re going to be okay” She told him softly as she caressed his cheek, leaving a streak of blood, “You’re going to fine, I promise,” She wanted to scream for help, but she knew it would probably do more harm then good. His wound was fatal. She had seen this before in the past realm. He was fading right before her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it. She tried though. She pressed firmly to his stomach to stop the bleeding. 

A noise behind her startled her back into reality.

“Hold this tightly,” She told him, pressing his clumsy weak hands to the material that was already soaked through with blood. The man was still a possible threat. He was alive, gasping for a breath as Aegon lay dying. She scrambled over to him. She pulled out her throwing knife, pressed it into the soft part of his neck.

“Who are you?” She questioned, pressing it close. His eyes showed fear but he seemed unable to move. She had seen it before with wounds to the neck. They paralyzed some men when done in a certain way, “Who hired you?”

“Death to the dragons” He managed to mutter, “And to the whores,” 

“Brotherhood then,” She pressed the knife closer, drawing blood this time, “But I’m not a whore or a dragon. I’m a wolf. My name is Sansa Stark,” She whispered before she sank the knife in fully, pulling it across his neck as she cut the veins wide open. Petyr had shown her to kill like this, how to slit a man's throat should she ever need to. He suggested doing it in the throes of passion. Blood flowed out as the life left his eyes. She choked back a sob as she pulled his cloak, tunic and belt off of him. She went to Aegon and used the belt to secure the tunic to his wound, and then wrapped the cloak around him to obscure the blood. She switched out their masks. Maybe the other men against them would think she was simply aiding a wounded brother in arms. She had to hope. 

“We have to try to get help” She whispered as she helped him stand.

“The sword, take it” He coughed. She grabbed it off of the stone ground, cursing its weight. It was meant for a man taller and stronger than she. She managed to hook it onto her belt on the side, and said a quick prayer that it did not slice through her belt or her flesh. Aegon was dead weight to carry. He struggled, stumbling. She used all of her strength to keep him upright as she dragged him towards the main alleyway. He groaned and cursed but she kept pulling him.

She made it to the alleyway they had first disappeared down. She could still hear screaming and yelling from the hill. There was smoke high in the air, but no dragons. Citizens were still running but she saw no more men with swords or armor, just men and women with their masks removed, running for their lives. She wanted to curse and cry but she held strong. She had to get Aegon to a maester, even if it were futile. 

“Tell Jon that I am sorry” He managed to whisper, blood flowing from his mouth and nose now. He coughed, choking on it. She stumbled, her feet crossing each other as she gripped him tighter.

“He knows,” She told him, “He loves you. You are his brother,”

“And Dany, sorry” He whispered. He was fading. Just like Jon had died in the last realm, his brother was dying the same way in this one, “I loved her,”

“No, you have to hang on,” She told him desperately. It was pure coincidence that she saw the flash of blue disappearing down another narrow alley with a figure clad in black, acting as if they were being pulled. It was the flash of a blue mask that convinced her to try. It reminded her of Brandon’s and the others that the guards were going to be wearing. She clung to the idea of help, to the possibility of salvation. 

“Come on” She murmured, pulling him along after her as she chased what she hoped was a Kingsguard down the alley. Aegon was no longer helping at all but her heart was racing, giving her strength. No one tried to stop them or help. Everyone was too busy fleeing themselves. She got to the alleyway but saw no one and heard nothing. There was something that made her hair stand on edge though, something in the air.

“Brandon?” She called softly, forgoing the Ser or Uncle moniker just encase it was not a friendly guard. She heard a grunt and then there were footsteps running towards her. She braced herself for an attack, her bloodied throwing knife clutched in her hand. She put Aegon behind her as best she could. He slumped back against the wall. There was another grunt and the sound of more footsteps, muffled fighting maybe.

“State your name” Came a voice that was not her uncle’s but familiar all the same.

“Ser Ronnet?” She called, “Is that you?”

“Your name,”

“Sansa” She called, “I need help, please. He’s been stabbed, he’s, gods he’s in bad shape,”

"What is the code word?" Ser Ronnet questioned cautiously. She heard more shuffling and grunting. There was definitely someone with him. She could not see him nor whomever else he had with him. She prayed it was Jon or Dany or her brother.

"Epses" She answered. It was a goat. King Rhaegar had sent them notice of the word this morning, “Please, Prince Aegon he's,” She whispered, her voice trailed off as she could not bear what she had to say. It carried in the alleyway though. She heard the sound of metal and then Ser Ronnet was in front of her, sword pointed at her chest. 

“Seven hells” The guard swore, looking at her and then at Aegon behind her. 

“Sansa!” It was Jon that was with him. Her heart clenched in relief at the sound of his voice. He managed to push past Ser Ronnet, crashing into her. She clutched him tightly, holding his head to her neck with her fingers spayed through his curls, praying that he didn’t see Aegon behind her, “Gods, I was so worried. I went back to where you were but it was chaos. I could not find you, and then Ser Ronnet pulled me away. I tried to find you,”

“It is okay, I am okay” She whispered.

“Aegon, is he-?” Jon tried to pull away but she held him tighter. She knew that the silver haired prince was dead. She had known the second he had slumped down. The blood stained the ground beneath them, stained her hands and her gown and her face. It was too much blood. She pulled her emotions back though, and focused on Jon and Ser Ronnet. 

“Don’t look” She whispered.

“No” Jon's devastated, broken plea felt like being stabbed in the heart. She wanted so badly to take the pain away but she knew that she could not. His brother was dead. There was no balm for a wound like that.

“Do not look, Jon” She whispered, trying to at least save him the torture of seeing said brother dead,  “Please, do not look”

“He is dead,” Ser Ronnet told them both bluntly, “We have to get you back to the castle, and quickly,” He was serious. Out of all the Kingsguard, Ser Ronnet was the youngest and the one that was most often sparring with the boys in the yard. He had only a few years on Aegon, Jon, and Robb. He was always laughing and enjoying his time to the displeasure of his elders, Selmy and Gerold. He never had an unkind thing to say to anyone. She had never seen or heard him so serious, and even a tad bit scared or worried.

  
“Aegon-”

“He is dead, lad. He’s not going to get better. His body is just a shell of his former self. We can’t be seen with a dead body, especially not one with silver hair,” Ser Ronnet searched the area and dragged Aegon’s body towards a little alcove, “Who do the mask and cloak belong to?” He questioned as he plucked at the black fabric, “Aegon was in blue and orange,”

‘The man who attacked us” She answered. Ser Ronnet nodded before he switched cloaks and masks with Aegon, and then passed her his blue one. She had forgotten that hers had fallen off in the melee. Jon turned away from the sight of his dead brother. She took one last look. He appeared to be resting peacefully. His eyes were shut and fear and worry lines were washed away. He could be sleeping were it not for the drying blood coming from his nose and mouth. Ser Ronnet tucked his cloak over Aegon, obscuring him in the shadows. With Aegon settled, Ser Ronnet secured the new mask around his face, his eyes the only part of his body betraying his feelings at doing such a thing. The kingsguard knight looked haunted at having to leave his dead charge. Jon looked ashen beside her. 

“Where is that man now?” Ser Ronnet questioned calmly.

“Dead,” She whispered, “I stabbed him in the neck. He knew what colors Aegon would be wearing, said that he was their target,” She told Ser Ronnet quietly, glancing between him and Jon before whispering, “Kill the dragons” Jon blanched. Ser Ronnet's face grew angry.

“The Brotherhood” Ser Ronnet cursed again, “We have to move quickly. Come on,” He went in front of them. Jon held her tightly to him, half under his black cloak. She had a dagger still clutched in her bloody fingers and the sword tucked into her belt. They continued down the path Ser Ronnet had been taking Jon down. It was narrow and dark but the guard seemed to know where to take them. The sounds of chaos and screaming got quieter and quieter as they ran.

They ended up in a square. All of the windows and doors were shut and barred. It was quiet, too quiet for the excitement that had been spread throughout the city earlier. Ser Ronnet led them forward, then stopped and backtracked quickly.

“Here, go up quickly, we need higher ground” He led them to a staircase that led to the second and third floors of a building. Jon sprinted up with her, Ser Ronnet behind them covering their backs, “Get on to the roof, stay low” He urged. Jon managed to pull himself up and then reached a hand down for her. She tucked her knife into her belt and reached for his clean hands with her own bloodied ones. He pulled her up, eyes glued to the blood around her nails. 

“You are covered in blood,” He told her quietly, “Are you hurt?” 

‘No, it is not mine,” She told him as Ser Ronnet appeared besides them. He motioned for them to follow him across the roof. The homes in King’s Landing were close enough together that they were able to go from one roof to another with minimal risk. As they came upon a main alley, Ser Ronnet had them crawl on the roof to stay out of sight while he peered down to assess the situation. She was too curious. She followed his lead, looking at the street beneath them.

“Those are not the Brotherhood” She whispered, looking at the gold and maroon colored soldiers that were roaming the streets. Her heart sank to her stomach as she recognized the familiar sigil, “Those are Lannister colors,” They were attacking them. The Lannisters were sacking the city.

“We are under siege” Ser Ronnet realized quietly, “Look at the castle” She looked in the distance to the Red Keep, where the gates were quite clearly closed, and the Targaryen flags still hung, blowing in the breeze. Dragons screeched overhead, spewing fire and smoke. They were flying in a circle, a perfect circle.

‘What does it mean?” It was too perfect to be natural. It had to be a signal.

“There is at least one Targaryen in the castle to organize the dragons to do that,” Jon explained quietly, “The flags, Ser Ronnet?” She noticed them now, the red and black striped flags hanging from the turrets.

“Your father made it back alive,” Ser Ronnet told him, “They fly at full mast when the King is still alive when we are under siege. It’s too dangerous to go back to the castle right now. They will be expecting that. You must call your dragon, Prince Jaemon, and get out of the city. Go North to your mother’s kin. We will try to hold the city, but if we should fail, your family will flee to Dragonstone. As heir, you should not be with your father encase things go wrong. And we will need to call upon our allies for aid,” Ser Ronnet was rambling now, talking more to himself then to them.

“The Baratheon’s, Arya and Gendry are still here somewhere” She whispered in horror, realizing that she had no idea where her siblings were, “And Robb, and Daenerys,”

“My mother and sister” 

“She was with your father on the stage. He grabbed her just before the explosion,” She whispered. It had to mean that the two were safe, yes? She had seen King Rhaegar dive towards Lyanna as the explosion rang out. 

“You saw the explosion?” Ser Ronnet questioned, pulling himself out of his dialogue.

‘Jon and I were close to the stage. You walked away, so I turned to watch. The man kneeling for penance removed his mask. Your father jumped up, and yanked your mother back. Wildfire exploded a moment later, and everything turned to chaos. Aegon found me shortly after,”

“He must have recognized the man as a danger, must have known him,” Ser Ronnet told them, “Ser Barristan and Ser Dayne were guarding them closely, and Ser Brandon and Ser Whent were in the perimeter with me,”

“Did you have eyes on Dany this morning?” Jon questioned.

“No, she snuck out without notice. We knew what everyone but her was wearing. Lord Robb was also unaccounted for. I would wager they snuck out together,” Ser Ronnet told them, “You must leave now though, Prince Jaemon. It is no longer safe for you. I will get word to the castle, to someone who can be trusted,” 

“I’m not going,” Jon told him, “Sansa can’t go on the dragon with me, she’ll get burnt”

“Jon-” 

“No, I am not leaving you in a city under siege while I ride away to safety on my dragon. Besides, it’s too risky. I will be shot down before I leave the city parameters,”

“Prince Jaemon,”

“I said no, Ser Ronnet. There has to be another option,” 

“We try to find a safe place to lay low,” Ser Ronnet told them, “I know of a few places we might be able to seek shelter without revealing who you are. From there, we will hope that our side prevails and squashes this little rebellion as quickly as possible,”

“Then we go there,” Jon decided.


	23. Chapter 23

It took a bit of work and waiting, but when they left their safe abode atop the roof, they headed towards Flea Bottom. She gave Jon her newly acquired sword, which he tucked under his cloak. With Ser Ronnet in the lead with his borrowed mask and cloak,  she and Jon fell back a few steps, pretending to be a frightened couple. They were moving with the crowds, and if there were those looking for a prince and a noble lady, they would not expect them to be heading in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

She tried to listen to hear what people were saying of the attack, but all she heard were snippets. The city was under siege. The gates were closed but a good many had already gotten through, though no one seemed to know exactly who the rogues fought for. The castle was barred and on lockdown. There were soldiers storming the walls of the landing, and ships closing in on the bay. Some claimed that the wildfire was still spreading, and others claimed that the royal family was wiped out. The majority were cursing the attackers for ruining the festival.

“Here, in here” Ser Ronnet pulled them into a lower level home down a narrow way off of the main road. An older woman barred the door behind them, drawing her curtains and locking what she could. From there, Ser Ronnet led them through the back of the home, and out into an enclosed courtyard, where they entered another home. They went up a few flights of poorly made stairs and ended up in a little room with a locked window. There was another woman waiting for them there. She recognized her immediately.

“Liv” She breathed a sigh of relief. The handmaid looked at her and sighed as well.

“My lady, I am so pleased to see you,” Liv told her honestly, “Are you injured?”

“The blood is not hers” Ser Ronnet spoke before she could, “I will be back by sunset. If I am not, assume that I am dead, and flee. Get out of the city and head to the North, to your Stark kin. Lord Stark will know what to do. Do not trust anyone else. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, ser” She and Jon both nodded.

“Good,” Ser Ronnet nodded, seemingly conflicted. She knew that he was debating on whether or not he should truly leave Jon. He was Kingsguard, sworn to protect the King and the royal family. 

“Go, Ser Ronnet. You must protect my father above all else,” Jon told him quietly, “We will be safe here for a while longer,” 

“You are the heir to the throne now, Jaemon, it is my job to protect you as well,” Ser Ronnet told him, “Do not forget that” He warned before he left them. They heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, and then they were alone with Liv.

 “I’ll get you a basin to wash the blood off,” She told them, “It’s the best we can do here,”

‘That is more than enough, thank you, Liv” She told her graciously. The girl hesitated in leaving them alone but left after a moment. They stood in the empty room staring at each other. She had no idea what to say. Jon seemed to be lost in his own mind. She let him wander. She went to the window and looked through a tiny crack in the shutters. There were no organized guards marching through the area, just weary looking festival goers, masks off and fine gowns torn.

When that proved to be less distracting then she imagined, she looked at the room. There was a bed and a trunk and a single wooden chair in the corner. On the bed sat a neatly folded blanket that looked like it had once been dyed purple. It was faded now, the stitches on the ends unraveling slightly. The walls were clay and dusty. There was nothing else in the room.

“Here you go,” Liv slipped back into the room, this time with a bucket and some rags. She also carried a small tray of cheese and bread and water.

 “Thank you, Liv” She told her softly.

“Of course, Lady Sansa. My family and I are on the lower level. Ser Ronnet told us to act naturally. If we are searched, we will say that you are our cousins, come to spend the festival with us. It is not well known that you are in the capital, Lady Sansa, and Ser Ronnet believes that the Prince will not be recognized as a Targaryen,” Liv lowered her voice, whispering those words.

“You will forever be in our debts, madam,” Jon told her, speaking for the first time in what seemed like ages. Liv flushed at the direct attention from Jon and nodded. She squeaked out something that sounded like a thank you and left them in the room.

She washed her hands first in the basin, scrubbing the blood from them. Jon pointedly looked away. She reached up to remove the blue mask from her face, but it was knotted too tightly for her to do herself. She had knotted it hastily in the alleyway, it was a mess now. Jon noticed her struggling. 

“Let me” He offered, moving her hands away gently. She dropped her own hands and let him work. His fingers made quick work of the knotted string. It stuck to the sweat and blood on her face, tugging at her skin when it was removed. Instead of turning again to let her wash her face, Jon took one of the rags and wetted it. He gently pressed it to her cheek, wiping at what she knew to be blood splatters. It took several minutes to get her free of blood. Anywhere not covered by cloth seemed to be sprayed with a delicate misting of maroon flecks. When he was finished, Jon wrung out the rags and wiped his hands.

“We should eat,” She told him, offering some of the meager food. He nodded and took what she offered. They sat on the floor, eating their spoils. It was not bad food but it tasted like sand in her mouth. She struggled to chew and to swallow. Beside her, Jon seemed to be doing the same.

“I’m scared” She admitted quietly.

“I am too,” He told her in the same tone she had used, “Can you find Lady?” He questioned. She turned to him in confusion, “I cannot focus enough to see through Ghost,” He admitted, “I close my eyes, and all I see is Aeg,” He murmured.

“Jon” She took his hand and gripped it gently. He squeezed back, “I’ll try” She should have thought of that sooner. She closed her eyes and thought of her wolf, of freedom.

_She was outside of the city walls. The air smells clean and fresh. She had friends with her, her pack. She could smell two of them, her brothers. She looked for them, hearing them but not seeing. They were hunting for prey. She whined for them to come closer. They had to leave, it wasn’t safe. They had to go home. Her mistress was telling her to go home._

She blinked back to the little room in Flea Bottom. Jon was watching her intently.

“They’re outside the city walls,” She told him, “I told Lady to go home, to bring them with her,” It wasn’t her place to send Ghost away without Jon, but a dead wolf was no good to them, and the city would only lead to their deaths. They hunted better in the open. She could call Lady back to her when they escaped the walls. 

“Good,” Jon nodded again. 

“Have you ever heard the stories of skin-changers using others instead of animals?” The idea had popped into her head earlier, when she had been in Lady’s mind, searching for her brothers. 

“You think you could find Robb?” Jon guessed.

‘I could try” She had no idea if she was strong enough for that, or if Robb would even let her do such a thing. It was a terrible invasion of privacy, but she had to know that he was alive and well. And Arya too, if it worked on Robb. She had faith that her sister was with Gendry and that they were smart enough to escape to the Stormlands. Robb had no one but her in the city, and she had left him.

“It’s worth a shot,” Jon told her. She closed her eyes again and focused on her brother. She thought of his kind smile and his teasing laugh. She pictured his auburn curls and Tully blues in her mind's eye, willing it to fruition.

_She opened her eyes and found herself in a familiar castle. There were dozens of people assembled in the Throne room, each one yelling and vying for attention. She was dressed in ripped and filthy clothing. Her chest ached like she had been punched. She searched the room, scanning for familiar faces._

_There, on the stage, stood the King. He had a bandage on his hand and seemed strangely fragile. He was stooped over she realized. He appeared shorter. He was yelling for order. His hair was singed. She could see the frayed edges. The wildfire had gotten quite close Beside him stood the silver-haired princess, looking no worse for wear, save for the dirt smudging her cheek._

_“Robb” Someone tugged on her arm. She looked down, found herself looking at her sister, her little sister. She had a black eye and dirt stained her face, but she was alive._

_“Sa-an” Arya looked at her strangely. She tried again to speak but something was fighting her, something was pushing her away. Robb, she realized. He was pushing her out of his head. She held on tighter, focusing on Arya’s face, “Sansa” She repeated._

_“We’ll find her, Robb, we’ll find all of them” Arya replied softly, looking at her strangely, “Are you okay? You look like you’ve had a conniption,” She tried to speak again, but she couldn’t. Arya gave her a soft look then hugged her tightly, or rather hugged Robb, “It’ll be okay, we’ll be okay” Arya murmured as she held him tightly._

She gasped back into her own body like she had been shoved. She was lying on his lap instead of sitting next to Jon. He was holding her tightly. 

“You were shaking like mad,” He told her, “All clenched and trembling,”

 “It was harder than being in the wolves’ mind. I had to fight to stay there” She told him, “I saw your father and Dany. Robb was in the Red Keep, Arya was with him,”

“Who else did you see?” 

“Just them” She admitted. She sat up from his lap, but her vision blurred and she felt terribly dizzy. Jon grabbed her before she fell.

“You should rest,” He told her, “You’re white as Ghost and still shaking, see” He held up her hand, which was indeed trembling, “Eat something, take a few breaths. We’re safe here for now,” 

‘I tried to tell Arya we were safe, but I couldn’t. I have to try again. If they went to your father, would he believe them?” She questioned instead, “If they told him we were alive and that they knew because I warged into Robb’s body, would he think them utterly insane?”

 ‘I do not know” Jon shrugged, “I would like to say that he would believe them, but I can’t say for sure. What of my mother, did you see her?”

“She wasn’t on the stage,” She realized, “Neither was Viserys. And Gendry wasn’t with Arya” She felt the panic in the pit of her stomach. Her sister was never without the man, not now.

“Hey” Jon shook her shoulder a little, “Don’t think of that now, rest”

She nodded and closed her eyes, lulled by Jon’s warm embrace and the utter exhaustion that was creeping into her bones. She hadn’t realized how draining warging could be, not when Lady always accepted her. Her eyes started to close on their own accord, and she drifted off to sleep.

**\------------------------**

She was woken up by Jon roughly shaking her shoulders. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on what he was saying. He was frantic, whatever it was was bad.

“We have to go, come on, Sansa” He was pulling her up now, “Sansa, we’re not safe here anymore. We have to go, wake up,” He shook her roughly. She was awake now. She could see the terror behind his eyes, and worse yet, the orange-red tinge coming in from the window behind him. She pushed him to the side and looked out. The entire city seemed to be glowing in flames. There were no dragon screeches though, nor could she see any in the sky, “What’s happening?”

“The city fell,” Jon whispered in a devastated voice, “Lannister and Tyrell men have breached the main walls,”

‘Tyrell?”

‘I saw them myself,” Jon murmured, “Flying both their flags and the Brotherhoods through the city streets. It’s chaos,”

“Here, you have to take these” Liv had burst into the room with a pile of clothing. Without warning her former maid pulled a gown right over her festival one, “The metal can protect you, and it makes you look plumper, like an old woman instead of a pretty young noble,” Live explained quickly as she wrapped a swath of brown fabric over her hair, like a servant’s veil. She was given a cloak next, which was worn and patched multiple times. Beside her, Jon was pulling a similar one over him.

“We have to get out of Flea Bottom,” 

“And go where?”

“I don’t know, out of the city for sure,” Jon told her, “Ser Ronnet should have been back by now. The soldiers are combing the city for anyone they can use as hostages,”

‘Okay,” She nodded. She grabbed her daggers from the floor and put them in the apron that Liv was tying around her waist.

“If Ser Ronnet returns, I’ll tell him where you went” Live promised.

‘Wait, one more thing” She hugged Liv close, “Prince Aegon’s body, Liv, you have to try to find it, please. Your brothers or someone, it can’t be left for them to find,”

“Of course,” Liv told her softly, “Be safe, Lady Sansa,’

“And you, Liv,” She told the girl, kissing her cheek as she embraced her again. Jon shook her hand, promising not to forget her kindness. From there they were hustling out of the little home, and out onto the streets, which were still chaotic. Jon pulled her along by the hand, weaving in and out of the crowds. It seemed that many citizens in the landing had decided that leaving would be the best idea. They had rut sacks over their shoulders, and their carts were packed to the brim. She wondered how many would make it out. She doubted that the Lannister men were letting innocent civilians leave.

“How are we going to get out?” She questioned as they sidestepped a broken cart that had tipped over. People were pillaging the goods while the owner tried valiantly to stop them but to no avail.

“I know a path,” Jon told her as they switched off of the main drag and took a narrower path, heading towards the city walls, “Ghost found it. The wolves probably escaped that way,” He ducked down another narrow path. She had no idea where they were anymore. There were people everywhere. She had no idea how they would slip out of the city unnoticed, “Here, go there,” He stopped and pulled her through a door she hadn’t even noticed. It led downwards, under the city. She had heard rumors of paths beneath the ground from Varys and others but had never seen them.

It was dark and moist underneath the city. It was quiet too though. There was no one else down here that they could hear. Jon led her down a wet path. It was impossible to see but Jon seemed to know where he was going. She could hear water dripping somewhere close. Jon moved at a fast pace. They were practically running through the tunnels.

“Does this go to the castle?” She questioned, wondering why they hadn’t tried it earlier.

“No” Jon whispered, but his voice echoed, “They left the castle anyways. Liv saw the dragons take off, and they never returned. They’ll have gone to Dragonstone,” Jon whispered. They had left him then, and her. They had left their city. She understood his mood now, his sullen and sad demeanor.

“We’ll get out of the city, and we’ll head North. My father will be assembling men to aid your father’s, as will Lord Baratheon and Lord Tully. Dorne will side with you as well. We will crush whatever rebellion Lannister and Tyrell managed to create,” She assured him. 

“They decimated us, Sansa. We knew nothing until they attacked. It took skill and a lot of planning. They will not cede easily,”

‘Then we will destroy them,” She told him, “Each and every last Lannister and Tyrell,”

“And Brotherhood”

“All of them,” She promised, “Are we near the blackwater?” She could hear the water rushing now. It was thunderous.

“Yes” Jon nodded, “I hope you know how to swim,”

She had no idea what he meant until they emerged over the roaring river, the only place to go being down. Jon started to secure his things to his belt, making sure everything was tight and in place. He turned to her, and secured her things, checking her cloak and her veil and her belt. He offered his hand to her as he stepped up onto the ledge. It was a short jump but the water looked vicious.

“Just hold tight to me. There’s a broken grate over the river that we’re going to slip through. We’ll end up outside the city walls, not too far from the Rosby road and the Iron Gate. There’s a small service road that runs adjacent to the Rosby road. It’s not well known. We’ll figure out a way to head North from there,” Jon promised, “It’ll be okay,”

“I know,” She gripped his hand tightly as she stood looking over the river beneath them, “On three?” She suggested with a small smile.

“On three” Jon nodded. They counted it out together, jumping into the frigid water a second later. It immediately pulled her down. She was a decent swimmer but this current was strong. Her legs tangled in her skirts, fighting to get to the surface. She opened her eyes but saw nothing in the darkness. Jon held her hand tightly, tugging her with him. He was a stronger swimmer. He pulled and pulled until they were breaking the surface and gasping for breath. She coughed like her lungs were failing. It was a feeling she hated. Jon tugged her closer to his chest, holding her there as he clung to a grate. She looked around then and noticed that he was perched on a small ledge. The water rushed by them, and through the grate.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, brushing a lock of wet hair from her forehead.

‘Yes” She nodded, her coughing finally ceasing.

“This part is easier” He promised, “We just slip through the grate, and then down into the bay. The water will calm, making it easier to get to the surface,” He explained. She simply nodded. She trusted him. 

‘I’m ready” She told him. He nodded and helped her lower herself into the water again, holding onto the ledge he was standing on with her fingers. He did the same until they were both clinging to the edge. He offered her a hand, which she took, and then they were under the water again. She could feel where the grate was broken, her dress caught on it but Jon easily pulled it away.

It was a few seconds later they were back on the surface, this time not quite as breathless. Jon pulled her close once again and swam towards the wall. He clung to it, looking around. She could see torches and the burning of the city, but there didn’t seem to be anyone close by. There were no ships or boats near them, and the water was quiet. It was wide open. If anyone saw them they would be in trouble.

Jon knew what he was doing though. She had no doubt that he had done this before, dodging his protection detail instead of those that wanted them both dead, though. They swam along the edge of the wall until they hit the ground, and from there, Jon led them along a narrow ledge in riverway that was covered by tall grass and shrubbery. It gave them cover encase anyone was looking. When they reached the end of that, Jon climbed up into the grass, and then pulled her up after. They laid low for a few minutes, waiting to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t heard anyone close by, so after waiting five minutes, they deemed it safe and stood.

They were on the other side of the Rosby road, which ran above them. If they stayed close to the slope, there was a chance they could go unnoticed. She prayed that they did.  

They walked in silence, quietly creeping down the service road. Sometimes they heard voices above them on the Rosby, and Jon would still instantly and pull her to his side, pressing them close to the edge of the hill, obscuring them with his cloak. They would wait until the voices were gone and then wait even longer just to be safe. She wasn’t afraid though. She knew Jon was worried and maybe just a little bit afraid. She had been through worse in the past realm. She was keeping it together well. She knew the consequences of getting caught though, so she was cautious as well.

They walked along the hidden path until the sun had risen. They found a drainage ditch in which to rest. It provided shelter from the high street and the lower one. With some shrubbery and their cloaks drawn up around them, they were invisible from sight. Jon pressed in against her, pinning her between his body and the dirt. Her body was aching at having walked so long and so far. Sleep came quite easily despite the fear that bubbled under the surface, the fear of being caught.


	24. Chapter 24

_Robb Stark POV_

_He was dancing in the little square with another pretty maiden dressed in green and gold. He imagined she had hoped to look like the Lady Margaery, with her long chestnut locks and golden flower adornments. Her accent was a dead give away, but she had a nice body and provided decent conversation.  She had introduced him to festival brew and the Dornish jig.  She gave him no name, and when asked, he did the same. He was reasonably sure he had danced with her sister, not two songs ago, but he had been a popular dance partner and had lost track of the faces. So many pretty girls with coy smiles and tinkering laughter. He was loving the festival more and more as time went on._

_“Do you want to go back to-” She had leaned in close to whisper in his ear when something loud and jarring rang out. Everyone froze, the music stopping abruptly. He turned with the crowd towards the source of the noise._

_He saw giant flames of green, and then it was chaos. People screamed and shouted, pushing others in their effort to get as far from the flames as possible. His own dance partner, the girl in green and gold, had left him alone in the two seconds since it occurred. He scanned the crowds for blue masks but saw none. He was on his own then. The castle would be the best place to go now. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was better to be safe than sorry._

_He kept scanning the crowds for guards with blue masks or familiar faces as he steadily made his way through the chaos towards the Red Keep. Many people were going in the opposite direction, but there was some heading to the castle as well. He had not recognized anyone though. He thought of his sisters and his cousin, of his friend, Aegon, and the princesses, Daenerys, Rhaeyns, and Arianne._

_A flash of silver caught his eye, the color far too similar to be a coincidence. A woman with long silver blonde hair dressed in a purple gown. There was a man in a black cloak with her. He had a black mask on as well. He was holding her to him, a hand on her shoulder. He saw no weapon or no sword at least. Praying to the old gods and the new, he took off towards them._ _Growing up with brothers and Theon had taught him how to wrestle. He tackled the man from behind, and the three of them all went down hard. He was pleased to see purple eyes behind the silver mask, confirming that he did indeed find Princess Daenerys. She scrambled away quickly while he focused on the man beneath him._

_The man was stronger then he looked. He caught a knee to the stomach, and then a nasty right hook to the jaw. He got away though, rolling and jumping to his feet. The attacker followed suit.  He was right about the lack of weapon as well. The man thankfully was unarmed. He landed a blow to the chin and then got tackled into the stone wall of a building. His ribs were definitely going to be bruised from them. Barely managing to breathe, he ducked just as the guy tried to punch his face. Instead, the man’s first hit the stone with a sickening crunch. He turned the two around and landed two quick jabs to the jaw, but the man was still conscious._

_Before he could land another blow, he was being shoved out of the way and a sword was through the belly of the man in black. A blue masked guard was standing above him, covered in dirt and blood._

_“We have to get to the castle, now” The guard barked. He didn’t recognize who it was. The man grabbed Daenerys and took off. He raced after them, not wanting to be left behind with whoever was targeting them._

* * *

“Lord Robb, Lady Arya” Princess Daenerys was at the door, looking as rough and tired as he felt. She had changed out of her ruined festival gown and into a pair of breeches and a leather tunic. Her silver hair had been pulled back into a tight braid, giving her a stern look. It was a far cry from the gentle look she had sported earlier, “My brother requests your presence if you are feeling up to it,” She told them. He looked to his little sister. Her black eye was something fierce. The sadness behind the grey orbs was something fierce as well. He was not used to his youngest sister being emotionally hurt.

 “You can catch me up later,” Arya told him quietly. She had been trying to get to Nymeria for hours but it wasn’t working. She wasn’t focused. He knew where Greywind was. He was out of the city with Ghost and Lady. Nymeria wasn’t with them though.

“Okay,” He squeezed her hand and stood. Daenerys led him out of the guest chambers and down the drafty corridors. It was quiet on the island. They had minimal guards. Only a few had been able to ride on the dragons with them. The rest were escaping the city as quickly as they could, regrouping in designated spots that the King had deemed strategic. 

“Is she handling things okay?” The princess questioned softly.

“No” He was honest in his answer, “Arya is always better with Gendry beside her. They even each other out in a way that I cannot truly describe,” The unknown fate of his good brother weighed heavily on him as well. The two had been separated in the melee that was the festival and had not made it back to the castle before they departed. Arya was nearly overpowered by men in black who found her on the path to the castle. She now sported a black eye from that encounter. Luckily, household guards had seen the scuffle and had retrieved her before the men could kill her.

“And you, how are you handling things?” The princess questioned, stopping in the corridor to look at him.

“I have faith that Sansa was with Jon and that he is protecting her,” He answered, praying to the Seven that he was right, “And you, princess?” 

“I fear that not everyone will make it out alive,” Daenerys whispered, “We are missing too many, and have none of theirs. Lya, Jon, Aeg, Viserys, Sansa, Gendry, Arianne, and then our household and the guards. Sers Ronnet, Whent, and Brandon are unaccounted for. Ser Darry has not returned, and Ser Gerold is gravely injured. Our people are trapped there too. So many will die, and for what?” Anger flashed across the princess’s face.

“I do not know,”

“Neither do we,” Daenerys huffed, “They started a war. We’ll have to fight back, and hundreds more will die in that. So much innocent life, lost,” She sighed.

‘Aye” He nodded. It all seemed so pointless to him. The Westerlands and the Reach were strong kingdoms, but they did not have more than the rest of the realm put together. It made him nervous. There had to be a piece they were missing.

“Princess, Lord Robb,” Ser Dayne nodded to them as they approach the war room. He was standing guard outside, and Ser Barristan was inside. The older man looked bruised and battered. Ser Gerold had taken the brunt of the attack, but the others were not uninjured. Even King Rhaegar took a hit or two. 

“Ser Dayne,” Princess Daenerys gripped his shoulder gently as she passed. He nodded to the man. No one was taking the capture of Queen Lyanna well, but Ser Dayne had been the one closest to the attack. Ser Gerold was on the perimeter. Ser Dayne and Ser Barristan were on the stage. When the explosion hit, the two guards split up to protect their charges. But when it appeared Ser Barristan would be bested and the King captured, Ser Dayne had made the choice to save the King, and the Queen was lost.

They entered the war room, and it was as brilliant as he had always pictured it. The stone walls were rough and unfinished to his left and his right. There were rudimentary dragons carved into them, and a large table spread out before him. It had the legendary map of the kingdom. In front of him stood the largest and clearest piece of glass he had ever seen, lending a beautiful view of the rough waters outside. The sun had risen a few hours ago. They had arrived at the castle late last night. There had been no chance to talk. The King had ordered them to bed. He stood now with his back to them, looking out the windows at the setting sun. His long silver hair had been hacked off after being singed during the explosion. It was strange to see it so short. He looked better then he had in the castle. He had suffered a deep gash in his side from the shrapnel of the explosion, but it appeared the maester had fixed it at some point. Beside him stood Tyrion Lannister. The two were speaking in quiet voices, too low for him to hear properly. Tyrion appeared to be bound with rope, trusted but not completely. The little lion had made the mistake of going back to the castle after the explosion hit. It appeared that he had no idea his family was attacking them. King Rhaegar was inclined to believe him, for why else would he have returned to the Keep? Ser Barristan stood guard on the wall. He looked bruised but alive, same as Dayne. There was a heavy look to his face. He had come close to dying today. Had Dayne not stepped in, Barristan and the King would have been killed or taken hostage. 

Daenerys took a seat next to Princess Rhaenys, who still looked worse for wear. She was pale and trembling slightly. There was a thick cloak around the girl’s shoulders, and a dark bruise on her cheek. She had not spoken since the attack. No one was quite sure where Oberyn had found her, but the Dornish Prince had appeared at the gates with the girl, only to disappear a minute later to search out his other niece, Arianne. He never came back, and Princess Arianne hadn’t been seen. Prince Quentin’s location was also a mystery, as was his Uncle Edmure’s and Jon Arryn’s. 

‘Your Grace,” Ser Dayne opened the door quickly, and Ser Darry could be seen behind him. The man was limping heavily and had blood on his face. He was the one to save Daenerys and him in the city. He hadn’t recognized him at the time. His clothing was torn and ripped in places, and his white cloak was missing. He looked like hell.

“Darry” King Rhaegar sighed at the sight of him, looking both relieved and disappointed. Had the knight found anyone they would have returned with him. Ser Darry hobbled in, dragging his left leg a bit.

‘Your Grace,” He wheezed, “I come with news,” 

“What did you find?” King Rhaegar questioned. The knight had left the castle before the city fell to search for their missing people, but had not returned before they left. King Rhaegar seemed confident he would find his way to Dragonstone, as did Barristan and Dayne. The bay was under siege though, surrounded by enemy ships. Ser Darry had made it though, a miracle in and of itself.

Ser Darry removed something from his belt, placing it in the King’s hands. He turned it over, inspecting it. He did not recognize the festival mask. It was made of metal, which caught in the sunlight and nearly blinded him. The princess gasped from across the table, “You recognize it, Dany?” The King questioned.

“Lady Sansa’s” Dany whispered, standing to take the mask from the King’s grip. He felt his stomach clench as his heart seized. He stood and took the mask from Daenerys, inspecting the delicately made creation. There were flecks of maroon on it and scratches. The chain was broken, still knotted. It had not been removed properly, perhaps torn from his sister’s face.

“It is blood,” He whispered, picking at the flecks. There was a smattering. It probably wasn’t hers, though, right? It was on the outside of the mask like it had sprayed her.

“Where did you find it?” The King questioned.

 “A courtyard a few blocks from the main square,’ Darry told him, shooting a look at him. It was apprehensive like he wasn’t sure whether he should spare him or not. Something bad then. He willed himself to stay calm, to keep breathing. He could let it affect him. Sansa was safe. She was with Jon. He had to believe that. He was lost if he did not.

“Go on,” He told the guard. King Rhaegar nodded in agreement.

“There was a body with marks of the Brotherhood in the courtyard. His wounds suggest a dagger to the neck immobilized him, and then his throat was slit ear to ear in a fluid motion. There were no signs of hesitation,” Ser Darry told them, “There was a lot of blood. I do not think it was all his. There were bloody footprints, and those that look like drag marks,” He continued.

“We can only assume that Lady Sansa was with Jon, Rhaegar,” Daenerys spoke up, “They were found and cornered in the courtyard. There was a fight of some sort. The attacker is dead, they had to have made it out alive,”

“Another scenario would be that there was more than one Brotherhood member. That they simply carried Lady Sansa out and dragged Prince Jaemon because he was heavier. We have no proof that the prince was there too. Perhaps Lady Sansa was alone when the dead man found her, she managed to injure him, but another brotherhood member showed up, grabbed her and put his friend out of his misery,” Ser Barristan spoke, “Weapons?”

“None in the area, meaning they were taken from the scene,” Ser Darry answered, “Only broken pots and the mask remained,”

“Jon would not have been armed, they used what they could, then took the dead man's weapon” Daenerys whispered.

“Is that all, Darry?” The King questioned.

‘No, your Grace” Darry looked stricken, “There was another body,”

“Whose?” The King questioned, looking grim but ready. 

“Ser Ronnet, your Grace,”

“Seven hells,” Ser Barristan swore aloud. King Rhaegar sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“Where?”

“Heading towards the castle. He was, he was dressed as a member of the Brotherhood, your Grace” Ser Darry faltered, an expression of betrayal flashing across his dirty face, “He had this on him, and a black cloak,” Ser Darry pulled another mask from his belt, this one black. It was split down the middle. 

“What else, Darry?”

“There are conflicting reports from Varys. His little birds say that they saw Ronnet with a man and a woman, both finely dressed. One swore the girl had red hair,” Darry finished. The room went silent as their minds raced at the possibilities.

“He would never betray his cause,” Ser Barristan spoke up, “He would have wanted to blend in, your Grace” He spoke loudly and defensively, “He was not a part of this. He was a good lad, a promising knight,” He could recall Ser Ronnet, the youngest of the group, as being laid back and quick to smile. He was the Stormlands, had shown them the path back to Storm’s End that had nearly ended with Sansa and Jon plummeting to their deaths. Ser Barristan had berated the knight after that one, even though it really was quite accidental. He could recall Ser Ronnet regaling Arya with tales of her new home, gesturing wildly with his hands and laughing heartily when Arya made a bawdy joke. He had seemed like a good man, not a traitor.

“Was he on the list of those tasked with guarding the black cells before the execution?” King Rhaegar asked quietly. Ser Barristan looked frozen, “Ser Barristan?” The King repeated, looking to the man. 

“Yes”  

“Then we have our traitor,” King Rhaegar took a breath. He wasn’t sure if the man was angry or disappointed, perhaps both, “I did not see it either, Barristan. I thought he was a fine knight, a future leader. He tricked us all, and now he is dead. We must focus on the bigger picture,”

“Starting a war” Drawled Tyrion Lannister from hit spot behind the table. He had nearly forgotten about the dwarf.

“Ending one” Daenerys gritted out, looking angrily at the little lion, “One that your family started, your father in particular. He was supposed to be on his deathbed, not planning a war,”

“I am as disappointed in his sudden recovery as you are, your Grace” Tyrion murmured sarcastically. Daenerys glared at him while the King rubbed his forehead in annoyance, “There are a few things that disturb me though, your Graces. The first being the odds. My father is a careful man. His odds of surviving against the North, Dorne, Vale, Riverlands, Stormlands, and Crownlands are quite low. The Reach and the West have the largest armies of the kingdom, but not more then all the rest combined,”

“We do not know everything” He replied, “We are missing something,”

‘Smart lad,” Tyrion nodded to him, “We are missing players,” Tyrion looked at the map spread out on the table. All the players were in the right spots for the moment. Wolves were in the North, lions in the west, and fish in the Riverlands, “We can assume that the Brotherhood has grown and expanded. How many would you say they could reasonably have, your Grace?”

“They were a couple thousand at their strongest, mostly sellswords and transients with no real kingdom to call home,” King Rhaegar told them, “How many could the West gather?” 

“Fifty thousand on its best day, but that’s all the men we have, green boys and dwarves included,” Tyrion remarked, “It’s the Reach that has the most. They could gather anywhere from seventy to eighty thousand men, nearly ten from Oldtown alone. I would wager the Iron Islands have been persuaded to the other side as well,” 

“Aye, the ships bore no markings, your Grace, but they were far better built than anything the West or the Reach could create,” Ser Darry told them.

“And the Iron Islands, how many could they assemble?”

“Twenty-five thousand at most, but more naval vessels than all the kingdoms combined” Tyrion answered, “Bringing them up to an impressive one hundred and forty-five thousand possible combatants. How many could you raise, your Grace?”

“In the Crownlands alone?” King Rhaegar looked to his map and sighed, “Fifteen thousand, maybe. Our strength would be in the Vale and Dorne, they could each raise forty-five to fifty thousand each. The Stormlands and the Riverlands might add another thirty-five to forty thousand,”

“And the North?” Tyrion looked to him.

 “On short notice and during the autumn?” He questioned, “Maybe twenty thousand. In time, another twenty from the far north and the mountain clans. The North is too big. It would take a few moons to get them all assembled,” He admitted. The North was the largest in terms of land mass, and with the snow that fell constantly, it would be difficult to raise arms on short notice.

“So that brings your side up to roughly one hundred and seventy thousand men, still more then the others,” Tyrion replied.

“We do not know the strength of the Brotherhood. They will have men from all of the kingdoms,” King Rhaegar pointed out, “For right now, we must call our arms. Is your ride still here, Ser Darry?”

“Aye, he’s refueling in the kitchens,” Darry replied, “The ravens ready?”

“Won’t they just be shot down?” He questioned, hoping that he was at liberty to do so. They were under siege. The opposing armies were waiting for them to do such a thing so that they could intercept messages and stop ravens from getting out. 

“Yes, sending a regular raven would indeed just result in the birds being shot down. But the man that brought Ser Darry here specializes in sneaking around. He will get past the siege and release the ravens at a distant location,” King Rhaegar did not look or sound annoyed with his questions, “I will be flying personally to allies and bannermen to raise the flags,”

“You’re injured, Rhaegar” Daenerys protested, “Not to mention that you’re the king. You cannot fly or face opponents in the shape you are in. You must heal first. I am not your child or your subject, I am your sister. You know that I can fly faster and far better than any other, and I wish to do so,” She told him, a fierce expression on her face. She was determined, “And do not patronize me with words about being a woman or whatever codswallop you lament about,”

“I was not going to do anything of the sort,” King Rhaegar told her. He looked to him then, “Lord Robb, I assume that you share a similar stance as my sister?”

“Aye, I do,” He told him. He was not eager to fight in a war for he was not crazy, but he was ready to do so, ready to fight for his family. His sister was out there somewhere. He had to find her. 

“Good,” The King nodded, “You will go by dragon to the North as soon as the sun sets. I have prepared a letter for your father, Lord Robb. He will know what to do after that. Daenerys, you will listen to Lord Stark. If you are so eager to be a soldier, you will start at the bottom. He will be your commander; you will obey his orders. Is that clear?”

“Crystal” Daenerys answered with a smile. She looked eager.

“Then go prepare and make sure your dragon is ready,” The King told her, “Lord Robb, you will stay here for a moment,” He nodded as Princess Daenerys left. The King looked to his daughter, who was trembling still, “Rhaenys?” He questioned softly.

“Yes, father?” She looked up and met her father’s eye. Though she was trembling her eyes were steel. She was prepared to do her duty. Perhaps she wasn’t as fragile as she seemed.

“You will fly to Dorne under the cover of darkness. Ser Darry will accompany you. I have faith that Oberyn will return there when the time comes. I have prepared letters for Doran and Lady Ellaria,” He told her, “Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes, father” Rhaenys nodded.

“Good, then go prepare with Dany,” Rhaenys nodded and kissed her father’s cheek before she left. Then there were three of them, plus the guards. Lord Tyrion was looking at the table, idly moving pieces to show the new status of the realms. Krakens surrounded dragons in the water. Lions and Roses inhabited the capital city.

“Are you to keep me prisoner here, your Grace?” Lord Tyrion questioned as he fiddled with a wooden lion. 

“No, you will have your own orders in due time,” King Rhaegar told him, “Robb, how is your sister, Lady Baratheon?” He questioned, dropping the formalities. He usually only called him Robb when their aunt was around. Without her, it was was like their families were not related at all.

‘She is shaken, your Grace” He answered. 

“I plan to fly to the Stormlands to alert my cousin of the attack and to raise the Southern houses from there. It is hard to coordinate an army when you’re trapped on an island, and even harder to defend an island when you have no army close by. It is for that reason that we will all be leaving Dragonstone come nightfall. With luck, they will not see us leave. Ser Darry and his man will take several on ships, to rendezvous with the Vale. Lord Tyrion you will go with them. Lady Arya will be given the choice of traveling to the North or to the Stormland’s. I ask that you explain to her the happenings, and send word with a guard on whom she plans to travel with,”

‘Aye, your Grace” He nodded.

“I also ask that you keep my sister grounded. She is prone to flights of fancy, and the entire operation rests on all of us getting out unseen and unheard. With luck they will not know we have left for several days. This gives us the chance to build up men and attack, hopefully, take them by surprise if we march quickly enough,”

“That is the plan, your Grace?” He questioned. To leave unnoticed and then attack the city? The North would not be able to march that quickly. They would need more time than that.

“The plan is outlined in the letter to your father. Should he wish to share it with you, he will, Lord Robb,” The king told him not unkindly, “If you have no other qualms, I have a dragon to ready, and you have a sister to speak with,”

“Of course, your Grace” He nodded, “King Rhaegar?” He questioned, looking back at the man.

‘Yes?”

“My sister, Sansa, she is not dead and neither is Jon,”

“You sound convinced,” King Rhaegar commented.

“I am sure Jon has told you about the wolves and Stark’s. I would know if they were dead, your Grace. The wolves would tell me,” It was the only thing giving him comfort right now. He knew Greywind was with Lady and Ghost. He had seen it briefly. They were well and headed away from the city, “I do not know where they ended up, but it is not in a grave,”

“For now, at least” King Rhaegar spoke quietly, “You are a bright lad, Robb. What odds do you give those that remain unaccounted for or those known to be captives?” Whether the King was speaking of his sons or his wife, he was unsure. But he knew what the man was alluding to. Just like his sister, the King was unwaveringly realistic. People would die, and odds were that some of those people would be loved ones. They had too many missing people as potential hostages. Their enemies did not need that many. Some would become collateral. 

“Slim, your Grace,”

“The most troubling thing about this whole situation is not what we know, but what we do not know,” King Rhaegar advised him, “I did not see this coming. My guards did not see it coming,”

“The unseen enemy is the most fearsome,” He murmured. It was something his father had said before. He saw the value of it now. 

‘Exactly” Rhaegar nodded.

He left the King and Lord Tyrion to rouse Arya, who was still trying in vain to find her wolf. When given the choice between Stormsend and Winterfell, his sister chose Stormsend, to his surprise.

“It is my home now, Robb” She told him sadly, “Besides, I have a better chance of persuading Robert to let me fight then I do convincing father,” A smile flitted across her face, reminding him that his sister was still here. She was just hidden in the sad, lost creature he saw before him. With time, she would be back to her old self, ready and willing to take down enemy forces to find Gendry. He hugged her tightly and promised that they would find their missing family. With a kiss to her cheek, he left her in her chambers to find Daenerys and to start his journey North. She was nearly ready to go. All that they needed was the cover of darkness to leave. Daenerys looked eager to get going. He did not blame her.

As soon as the sun went down, they went outside. They hit a patch of luck. The moon was slim and the sky was cloudy. It was the perfect weather to disappear in. The dragon was just as fierce as it had been when they left the capital city. He was massive and angry looking, like his mistress. Daenerys stroked the beasts’ snout and then beckoned for him to approach. He climbed up onto the makeshift saddle, wincing at the heat of the bare scales he brushed. He knew that he would be burnt to ashes if he touched the beast without the saddle's protection. Daenerys climbed up after him and settled into her seat.

“The King says to fly east than North at as high an altitude as possible, Princess,” He told her as he checked to ensure the sack holding their provisions and the letters were intact.

“I know” Daenerys told him as she kicked the beast into the air. His stomach lurched but he managed to quell the urge to vomit. On their journey here he had been holding Arya in his arms. She had fought tooth and nail to stay in the castle, but the walls were falling and enemy soldiers were already running down the halls, “I will not blow our cover, Lord Robb, I am not stupid,” She huffed.

“You are eager for revenge” He commented. She did not bother to comment. She was eager for it. Instead she pulled the dragon up sharper and faster. He clung to his harness, praying she didn’t’ kill him out of spite. His last view of Dragonstone was of the towers before the clouds engulfed their vision, and everything went dark.It was unnerving to be so high up with so little light. The air was thinner and colder, but the dragon’s natural heat kept him warm. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like being on a boat.

“You can sleep. I’ll wake you when we land” Daenerys told him softly, “I know you did not sleep much last night. I heard you and Arya talking,”

“She could not sleep” She had been plagued with nightmares, of Gendry being ripped from her grip. He had sat with his sister as she tried desperately to find her wolf, to find her sanity. 

“Therefore neither could you” Daenerys surmised, “Sleep, Lord Robb,” She commanded. He was tired, and the motion coupled with the dragon’s intense heat made for the perfect slumbering conditions. He tightened his straps and leaned forward on the massive saddle, wrapping his arms around the top piece. Secured as best he could be, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a month. I'm sorry for not updating, but I've lost my muse. Without the show and with a long road ahead of us until the next season, I've been a bit remiss in my writing. Thank you for sticking with me. I love reading all the comments you take the time to write. 
> 
> That being said, here's the next chapter. Jon and Sansa take on Rosby. Be warned it does get a little M rated towards the end ;)

She woke to a setting sun, her back and sides aching from having slept on the cold, hard ground. Jon was awake already, watching the sunset with a far-off look on his solemn face. He said nothing as he helped her stand and brush the bracken from her roughspun dress. They resumed their walking. There were no words shared between them, only silence. She supposed that there was nothing really to say. She was hungry. He was probably hungry. They had found a small ravine to quench their thirst, but they had not eaten since they left Liv’s. She stumbled a few times as they went, and each time Jon caught her arm then let her go quickly once she stabilized. She took to focusing on his boots as they walked. She counted their steps, lost count, then started again.

Before she knew it, the sun was rising once more. Two days ago, the world had been right. Two days ago, she had been readying herself for the festival. Now they were meandering down the dirt roads, searching for someplace relatively safe. Jon ventured up to the main road to see where they were. She stayed hidden, pressed against the ground. It had been long enough that her clothing had dried. She smelt like a swamp though, and her skin was tight with dirt and sweat. She could see the grime on Jon’s cheeks and guessed that hers looked no better.

“It’s clear,” Jon told her as he joined her again, the first words he had spoken since they escaped the city, “We are not too far from Rosby. There are inns along the way that we could seek shelter in for a little while. I have coin,” He told her. 

‘Is it safe?” She questioned. She felt like it wasn’t, but they had no choice really. They needed respite and food. Mostly food.

“We will have to risk it,” Jon told her softly, “We need a backstory,”

“We were in the capital for the festival, we fled when the attacks began, left everything we had. We’re citizens of the Riverlands headed home,” She murmured, “Can you hide that capital accent?” She questioned. His capital drawl was worse than her Northern one. She could do a passable Riverland one, imitating her mother's soft drawl.

“I can try,” Jon remarked.

‘Just go for Flea bottom, rough and thick” She told him, “And names, we’ll need different ones obviously. How do you feel about the name Brynden? Tis a common Riverland name,” 

‘It sounds well enough for me, and you will be?” He questioned.

“Alayne” She answered, “So Brynden and Alayne Rivers, from the Riverlands. Fleeing the city in the wake of the attack. Give me the sword, it’ll be easier to hide under my cloak. They’ll be looking for one on you,” She held out her hand for it, noticing the dirt that encrusted her nails. He unclipped the blade from his belt and passed it to her. They would have to find a proper sheath for it before they sliced themselves.

“Let us go then, Alayne”

“After you, Brynden,”

They moved up onto the main road as they neared the village. It was a quiet village, scarcely a village at all. There seemed to be few people around. Majority had probably ventured south for the festival yesterday. Jon led her in the direction of an inn on the outer northern border of the town. It would be easier to slip out and onto the road from there then the other inns located in the heart of the village. There were signs pointing to it. They shuffled into the well worn entryway and found an older woman sitting there on a stool. She was older then nan, her eyes a milky white. Blind, hopefully.

“Cannae help yoos?” She drawled in a rough, thick capital city accent.

“Need a room for the night” Jon answered gruffly.

“’ow many?”

“Two, me wife and I” Jon answered.

“Name for da log?” She questioned, holding out a quill for them to sign in. She took it before Jon could. She elbowed him to speak while she scrawled out a version of their names, barely legible.

“Brynden and Alayne Rivers”

“Rivers, eh?” The woman drawled, “You coming from the city?”

“Ay”

“Heard there was trouble, that we was attacked by them damned lions”

“Ay, ma’am” Jon replied.

“A damned shame” The woman sighed, “War in a time of peace,”

“Ay, it is” Jon murmured, “Much’ll it be?” He questioned.

“A silver and a half” 

Jon grumbled a bit as he pulled the coin from his pocket. He made sure not to make too much noise, lest the woman notice how many coins he carried. She herself was shocked by the number. Why had he been carrying so much coin? She saw more then two dozens silver pieces and a few that looked to be golden dragons. That was very dangerous to do in the city. They paid and she led them to their room, informing them as they went that breakfast had passed but they could have stew for lunch and then it was roasted fish or more stew for dinner depending on what her no good son could catch.

It was a very simple room. There was a straw pallet with threadbare blankets, a few loose looking pillows, and a rickety table with one chair. There was a bath basin in the corner and a window above it. A small fireplace with wood to burn finished it off.

“A lil fact about this ole place,” The woman told them as she stepped into the room, feeling along the wall. She grinned when she found what she was looking for, and then pushed, revealing a secret passage in the room, “Used to be a popular whore house back in the holy days. Not every inn can boast such a thing, ay?”

‘Ay, tis interesting for sure” Jon replied, looking like he was trying not to laugh. She was struggling as well. It was so random and out of place that it was humorous. The old woman grinned, and left them, leaving the alcove open. 

“We should take off these clothes and let them dry completely” She suggested as they stood around, staring anywhere but at each other once the woman was gone. She refused to acknowledge the awkward tension in the air. She had shared a room with Jon many a time, but he had never shared with her. She knew he would have difficulty with it, “Then get some rest,” 

“Ay, that’s a good idea” He murmured. He started to undress, so she followed his lead and took off her own cloak. The apron came next, and with it her draggers, then her billowy peasant dress that Liv had provided. It was mostly dry. That left her in her festival gown, which was ruined. The light silk material of the skirt was stained and torn. There were blood stains where she had kneeled on the ground, and splatters of the same dark red across the metal breastplate. Evidence of Aegon's demise, painted across the silk, like an abstract piece of art. 

“Jon?” She questioned, looking over to him. He had gotten down to his breeches and tunic, simple things that were stained but not as badly as her own, “I need help with the clips and ties” She admitted quietly.

“Of course” He nodded, slowly making his way to her. He brushed her curls to the side and began unclasping the breastplate clips. When those were undone, he started unlacing her stays. She whispered instructions when she felt them tightening instead of doing the opposite. When it felt loose enough, she thanked him. He nodded and retreated back to where he had been undressing. She slipped the gauntlets off and tucked them into her apron with the daggers. That left her in her shift and her stockings. It was one of her skimpy shifts, with thin straps and a lace up front that increased her bust. Dany had gifted it to her when she arrived in the capital city. 

“Here” He was holding out one of the blankets to her. She took it and wrapped it around her to cover her skin.

“Thank you,”

“We should try to sleep,” Jon murmured. He was in just his breeches now, chest bare. He was just as well sculpted in this realm as in the past, though no scars marred his skin. She tried to keep her eyes from following the trail of hair down past his waistband, but they flickered, “Sansa?”

‘Sorry, what?”

“Sleep, we should get some” He reiterated, “I’ll take the floor, you can have the pallet,” He told her.

“Okay” She nodded, agreeing. They needed the rest. She passed him a pillow from the pallet, and a blanket. She wanted to offer him the other side, but she knew he would decline. She settled down onto the pallet while he checked the doors and windows. It was light out but she knew she could sleep after the long day she had had.

She fell into a fitful sleep, one where you know you’re not sleeping well but powerless to fix it. She could feel the tension in her body, the rough slightly damp brush of her shift against her clammy skin. 

Perhaps it was best that she was sleeping so lightly. She woke up instantly at the sound of hoofs outside the inn. She bolted straight up on the pallet, going quickly to the window. The sun was just setting, so they had slept for quite awhile. She kept low as she peered out, then cursed at what she saw. They were city guards, but she knew they were Lannister men in her gut. 

She woke Jon with a hand over his mouth and the other shaking his shoulder. His eyes widened comically as he woke, searching the room. 

‘Outside” She whispered, taking his blanket and pillow. She folded them both swiftly and neatly, placing them on the pallet with the pillows. He started collecting their garments and belongings, then shoved them into the alcove. She took one last look at the room, making sure it looked like it was empty before following him. She pulled the door shut behind her, cloaking them in darkness. She followed him to the edge of the space, and sat with him. 

“Do you-”

She put a hand over his mouth though. She made the “shush” gesture with her fingers, and tapped his ear. They could hear the woman talking to the guards like they were right below them. They must have been.

_“Fraid I ain’t got no guests,” The woman told them, “Yous looking for a place to stay tonight?”_

_“No, ma’am” A deep voice replied, “We’re looking for a few people. Two men and a woman. One of the men has tanned skin but light hair, the other darker hair, quite long. Both have purple eyes. The woman has red hair. They would be coming from the city, very well spoken, paid in high value coins or valuables,”_

_“Think I’d remember that, I’m old not blind” The woman cackled, “Yous just described royalty. You lot lose your charges?”_

_“Ma’am, this is a very serious matter”_

_“Ay, it is,” The woman stopped laughing, “But I don’t got any guests. Whole village is empty, everyone went to the festival. Heard it ain’t end well though, eh?”_

_“There was a small explosion in close vicinity to the King and Queen. Both royals are safe, and the capital city remains as safe as ever, ma’am,”_

_“Ay, the city guard did its job then,” The woman remarked, “What a surprise” She started laughing again._

_“We’re going to search the inn now, ma’am. Just to be sure no wanted people are hiding in your abode unnoticed. It’s for your own safety, as well as the safety of the rest of the village,”_

_“They violent, these missing royal folk?”_

_“Extremely so, ma’am. They incited a panic in the capital city, nearly killed the King and Queen. Dozens of innocent commoners died in the resulting stampede. It is imperative that we find them, and put them to justice,”_

_“Well, have at it then”_

They both stood stalk still as footsteps echoed through the inn. She scarcely breathed in fear of being found. Jon seemed to be holding his breath as well. They heard doors being slammed and the sound of metal armor clinking together. When the door to their room burst open, it hit the back wall with a loud bang. The guard could be heard tossing the bed and checking the wardrobe.

She breathed out when they left, apparently none the wiser.

“ _All clear” The man reported back._

_“Told yous I was empty. No business these days,” The woman complained, “No one ever stops in Rosby,”_

_“We apologize for the the inconvenience, ma’am. Please be on alert for these dangerous fugitives,”_

_“Don’t think no fugitive is going to hide in Rosby” The woman scoffed, “We’ve barely got five acres here, less then fifty people. Think we’d notice newcomers. I’d go to Duskendale, plenty of seedy sorts willing to hide fugitives for the right price, or south of the city to that damned wood. Plenty of spaces to hide in there”_

_“We’re on our way to Duskendale now, ma’am” The guard reported, “Have a pleasant evening,”_

_“Ay, pleasant is unlikely, gotta put everything yoos destroyed back to order,” The woman told them. They heard the sound of footsteps fading away as the soldiers left, and then hoofs against the ground as they got on their horses._

She and Jon both waited in the alcove, breathing slowly and quietly. They both tensed when they heard the door being opened, and then their alcove was being pushed in, exposing them to the dim light of dusk. The woman stood there looking at them. She supposed it was lucky the woman came. It seemed like the alcove was only accessible from the outside, not the inside.

“I don’t suppose you knew them guards?” She questioned as they stepped out of the alcove.

“No, ma’am” She answered when Jon seemed unable to answer himself, “Those are not real city guards,”

“Seven hells, the city actually fell then?” The woman cursed, “Ain’t seen a war since I was a girl, don’t fancy seeing one now. Yoos the red head and one of the men they’re searching for?” She questioned.

“Perhaps” She answered evenly. 

“I am-”

“No” The woman spoke over Jon, shaking her head,  “Ain’t going to do me any good if I know yoos real name. I got an inkling but it don’t need confirming. Yoos will be Alayne and Brynden. And if a silver haired, light of eye lad comes in here seeking the same shelter, I shall tell him the same,”

“He will not,” Jon spoke lowly, “The usurpers killed the crown prince,” His voice was detached and cold.

“Seven hells” The woman swore again, “Bloody rebellion they done started. It ain’t safe for you here, not so close to the city but I can help yoos out. Rosby’s always been a staunch Targaryen supporter. Ain’t going to change now. You have to keep moving, soon as its dark,”

“We know. We’re just recouping, and then we’ll be on our way,” She told her, “I don’t suppose you have a razor we could borrow? Perhaps some walnuts?” She questioned.

‘I got a razor sure. And I think I could find some nuts for ya, you’ll want them boiled, I bet,” The woman seemed to know where she was heading, “I’ll wrangle up some stew too, see what I can gather for your trip wherever it is your headed. Best if yous stay here just encase they come back, easier to hide. I mights be awhile,”

“Thank you”

The woman left them again to get what she could. She realized then that they were still quite naked. She was in just her shift and he wore breeches. She was close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. 

“That was close” She commented lightly. 

“Too close” He sounded a bit ragged. She looked at him, realizing that he was trembling. It was a fine tremor, not a full out fit. She reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly. He pulled her into him, crushing her to his naked chest. His arms were like a vice around her. He was trembling, breathing roughly. She extracted a hand and carded it through his curls.

“Ssh, it’s okay. We’re okay” She murmured, trying to soothe him. She kept forgetting that this Jon had never lived through a war. He hadn’t fought wights and wildings at the wall, had not been killed and brought back to life, had not sacrificed his life to reclaim Winterfell. This Jon grew up in a time of peace. He played at war with his brother and friends. He knew the love of two parents, “It will be okay, Jon,” She whispered.

“He is dead” He sounded so pained that she ached to help him, ached to make him feel just a tiny bit better, “Aeg’s dead,”

“I know” She whispered, “But he did not suffer, Jon,”

‘He is still dead and I nearly lost you too,” 

“But you did not lose me. I am safe, I am right here” She murmured, placing a hand on his chest over his quickly beating heart, “Aegon’s last words were begging me to tell you that he was sorry, that he did not mean what he had said, and that he would always love you,” She lied a bit but she knew Aegon would not have minded. Had he had more strength he would have said these things. It went unsaid, as the saying went.

“We had not talked since the big blowout, not really, a few words here and there, nothing but trivial things to appease our father,” Jon muttered miserably, “And now he is dead and I will never get the chance to tell him how sorry I was about the things I said, the things that I did,”

“He knew, Jon. Just like you know that he did not mean what he said,”

“I just cannot believe he is dead” Jon ran a ragged hand over his face, discretely wiping away the tears that had tracked down his cheeks. He looked at her, his grey eyes stormy. He watched her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “How are you so calm? Are you not afraid?” He wondered aloud.

“Terrified” She admitted, and she was telling the truth. She was terrified of what was happening, of what could become of them. She had not anticipated this, had not seen it coming. She knew these enemies but in a way, she did not. Her Lannister’s would not have been so bold. They had started a rebellion, and over what? Who sat on the throne now? She had no idea, she was just as blind as she had been in the beginning of the old realm, “But being afraid is not going to help me survive,” She whispered. 

“I do not know what to do” Jon admitted quietly, “I do not know how to hide or be a fugitive or fight for real. I do not know if we should continue going north or try Riverrun or the Vale. I do not know if I should call for Styx or get a boat to Dragonstone. I do not know who to trust and who is our enemy,” 

“You can trust me,” She told him softly.

“I do trust you, completely” Jon promised, “And you can trust me. I will protect you, even if I don’t know from who or how, I will die before I let you get hurt by these usurpers,”

“I do not want you to die for me, Jon,” She told him, blinking back the tears at the sudden unwelcome thought of this Jon dying for her as well, “Please, promise me that you will never sacrifice yourself for me. I could not live with that,”

“I cannot promise you that, Sansa,” Jon replied softly. He loosened his grip, and tilted her chin so that she was looking at him, “I will not promise that. I will promise the opposite of that, that I will always fight to protect you, even to the end,” 

“I will not let you die for me, Jon,” She told him, tears streaming down her cheeks now. Jon roughly brushed them away. She leaned in and kissed him then, hoping to end this crazy talk. He responded immediately, kissing her back with the kind of ferocity old Jon used to display the night before a battle or right after one. His blood was running hot through his veins, causing a high that made you feel invincible, or so her old Jon used to say. 

Without his tunic on, she was free to explore his well sculpted torso. His skin was blazing hot under her cool hands. He took liberties with her as well, first just skimming the bare skin of her arms before moving to her side, and then just above her arse. With just the thin material of the shift between her body and his hands, she could feel everything so much better. He got daring, moving his hand south and pulling her even closer. Her breasts were pressed soundly against his torso, creating a friction that was driving her mad. She could feel him hard against her thigh, so she shifted a bit, drawing a groan from him as she did so. She expected him to stop like he had in the Godswood not so many nights ago, but he did not. He pulled his lips from her lips, but instead of stopping, he kissed her jaw, her neck, nipping down to her collarbone. She felt weak kneed at the sensation, whimpering when he pulled his warm lips from her skin completely. 

“Tell me to stop” He rasped, voice husky and lips adorably red and plump.

“And if I don’t want you to?” She questioned, being bold. Jon’s irises were near impossible to see with how wide his pupils were blown. He offered her his hand, which she took without hesitation, and led her to the bed. He barred the door on his way there. There were no candles lit, so all they had was the dim light that was quickly disappearing as the sun set. It was rather romantic, she thought. At least it was more then she had in the past realm. A frozen tent and some furs that smelt like sweat and blood and death.

She pushed him back and then straddled his waist, kissing him again. One hand tangled in his hair to hold him in place while the other skimmed his chest. She could feel him rock hard just a few centimeters from where she wanted him. He shivered at her touch, and hesitantly brought his own hand to her chest. It started off as light, glancing brushes that felt like whispers against her skin. She pressed herself closer.

‘I will not break” She whispered against his lips as she pulled away to kiss his jaw and his neck, nipping and licking at his salty skin. He tasted like the Blackwater, and she probably did as well, but she didn’t care at that moment. His light stubble scratched her smooth skin, but it was a sensation she welcomed. Beard burn, as Jon's wilding friends used to tease her about. He took the hint and was more forceful with his touches. It was slightly awkward, but she did not care either way. He kneaded one breast, flicking her hardened nipple as he did so. She moaned deep in her throat, kissing him harder. She could feel the moisture gathering between her legs.

“May I?” Jon questioned, picking at her shift. She nodded and pulled at one of the ribbons over her shoulder, while he did the other one. The shift pooled around her waist, letting her breasts hang free. Jon didn’t quite know what to do. She took his hand and put it to her skin, her fingers moving his like she wanted. He was a quick study. He got bold then, took more liberties. She moaned breathlessly when he brought his mouth to her chest, sucking delicately on her peaked nipple. She arched up into him, gasping when it brought him into direction contact with his hardened member.

“Jon” She tugged him back up to her lips for a bruising kiss. He pulled back and cupped her cheek, looking at her with an awe struck look upon his face. His thumb gently traced her swollen lips, tugging gently at the corner. She smiled softly as him as she witnessed his eyes grow misty. Alarmed, but only slightly, she brought her hand up to cover his, “What is it?”

“I should have never left you alone at the festival. I should have been the one with you when the attack began, not Aegon. I should have been the one that died in that alleyway protecting you,” He whispered. 

‘Jon-”

“You are beautiful and kind and strong, so very strong,” He told her softly, his grey eyes shining, “I do not deserve you,” Her heart ached for him, but he had it all wrong. It was she who did not deserve him. A lone tear tracked down his cheek. She wiped it away delicately.

“You deserve everything that life has to offer,” She told him, kissing him chastely, “Let me help you, Jon, please” She caressed his cheek as her other hand wandered down the smooth expanse of muscle on his back, stopping at his breeches, “Let me help take away the pain,” She whispered, kneeling above him and pushing him back onto the pallet. It was very bold of her, but it seemed to be beyond Jon’s recognition at the moment. He fell back easily, staring up at her in an awe struck, slightly drunken way. 

“Sansa, you don’t-” He gathered enough wits to protest when she started unlacing his breeches. Her fingers worked deftly on them, and by the time he spoke, she was a second away from dragging his pants down.

“I know I do not have to, but if I want to?” She questioned, grinning slightly, “Do you not want me to?”

“Bloody hells, of course I do” He muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to regain his wits, “But I would never expect, we’re not, I wasn’t-” He stammered and she caught his drift. They were not married nor officially promised to each other. She was a noble born lady and he was the crown prince. It was improper for society, but society had fallen apart only two days ago.

“It is not what we expected, no, but life deals us certain cards, and it is up to us to play them to our best ability. I would like to, Jon. I have never done such a thing but the maids' whisper, sisters gossip-” She infused her words with naivety and innocence, feeling slightly guilty at how she played him. But seven hells, she had missed this part of Jon, this naked and needy and desperately hard part of her love.

“Please don’t mention your sister with you hand where it is,” He groaned, covering his eyes. She grinned. That was more like her old Jon.

 “Where is my hand, Jon?” She teased him, lightly tracing her fingers up and down his cloth covered length, “Where do you want my hand to be?” She questioned as she gripped him slightly, enjoying the little twitch of his cock at her touch.

“Fuck, Sansa,” He groaned. She restrained herself from the obvious remark. That could just prove to be a little too vulgar for her virgin Jon. Her past Jon had been a sucker for dirty words whispered in his ear, and even better, he was skilled at doing the same to her.

‘Help me” She whispered, bending to kissing his stomach as she worked his pants off. He lifted his hips, letting her tug the thick breeches down to his ankles. He kicked them off, leaving him completely bare. It was strange to see something so familiar yet so utterly unfamiliar. She nearly wept at the sight of his familiar cock. It would be a strange sight though, weeping over something so base. She was loosing her mind, “Show me” She whispered throatily, playing at innocent as she gently laid her hand on the soft skin of his cock. He was burning hot. He groaned heavily, muscles spasming as he tried to control himself at her light touch, “Show me how to please you,” She whispered again.

It was with heavy arms that he managed to grip her hand around his cock, using her thumb to spread the moisture gathering at the tip for lubrication as he pumped her hand up and down. His abdomen spasmed as he tried to stave off his impending climax. He used his free hand to gather her hair and pull her to him for a kiss. It was a biting kiss, filled with passion and desire. She was dripping wet under her shift, which was hanging from her hips loosely. She had no doubt that if she were to hike it up and impale herself upon him that he would not protest. But it felt better to take it slow, to make it special while they could.

“Sansa, stop, I’m going-” He pulled away from the kiss to ground out the words. She did not let him finish though.

“It is okay, just let go,” She told him, nipping down his neck as she tightened her grip on his cock. Her free hand went to his side, raking her nails up and down the smooth skin. He groaned once before going stiff, spilling his seed on his stomach and all over their hands.

He was panting slightly, regaining control of his senses. She wiped her hand on her shift as she peppered his face with light kisses. He went to bring his hand up, presumably to cup her face or drag her closer, but stopped when he realized it was covered in sticky seed. She grabbed his wrist before he could wipe it clean, and brought it closer to her. Maintaining eye contact, she licked the top of his hand from wrist to first knuckle, then sucked one finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue when she withdrew. His pupils were blown wide. He tasted salty on her tongue, once again something so aching familiar that she longed to suck him dry as soon as he was hard again. She settled instead for licking each finger clean. When she finished the last one, he was hard once more.

He reacted quickly, turning them over in the bed so that he was straddling her and she was on her back. He kissed her hard, tongue exploring her mouth in manner that one could almost call rough. 

‘I can taste myself on your tongue” He whispered roughly against her neck as he nibbled and nipped his way down to her breasts, “Do you know how crazy that drives me?” He questioned as he bit into the fleshy underside of her breast. It was so surprising that she cried out in pain and pleasure, “Can I take this off?” He questioned, pulling at her shift once again. He was moving quickly, in a nearly frenzied manner.

"Mhmm” She nodded, helping him tugging it down her legs then kicking it off herself like he had done with his breeches. It left her bare to his eyes. He raked over her hungrily, though he did not touch her there, not yet. Instead he kissed down her stomach and her thigh and then to her knee and to her ankle. He took the time to suck at different points, sucking harder when she moaned and taking his time when she made noises of impatience. He was being cheeky. He switched sides at her ankle, and kissed his way back up. She was pleasantly surprised when he did stop at her thighs. His fingers gripping the fleshy bits near her core, he leaned up to kiss her lips. 

‘Can I?” He questioned, stroking her thigh gently. 

“Please” She whispered breathlessly. It was all the encouragement he seemed to need. A second later a finger was gliding through her slick folds, then two. She wiggled closer, desperate for more friction. Emboldened by her response, he hesitantly inserted a lone finger, stretching her slightly. It was tight. She had forgotten how tight she had been in the beginning. Her body was not the same body. She was a virgin here, a virtuous maiden.  She gasped at the intrusion. Jon stilled.

‘Are you okay?” He questioned, looking at her in concern.

 “Yes, keep going,” She told him breathlessly. She had gasped in pleasure not pain, or well, the slight pain was pleasurable. He was slightly awkward in his movements, and she had no doubt that she was the first girl he had fingered, but what he lacked in skill he made up for with sheer eagerness. One finger became two, and she was keening with the feeling of it all. She only wished he would find her clit quicker, send her over the edge. He was so close. As if compelled by her thoughts, his thumb brushed over the sensitive flesh and she clenched down on his fingers, mewling in pleasure. Jon was a smart lad, he did it again, then again, getting more and more bold as she responded so well. When he brought a hand to her breast and rolled her hardened nipple while simultaneously finger fucking her cunt and pressing on her clit, she saw white. Her body seized up as waves of pleasure crashed down on her. 

He kissed her lightly as she came down from her high. Like she had done with him, he made a show of sucking his dripping fingers clean of her juices.

“Delicious” He basically growled, flooding her core with wetness once more. Gods, did he even know how arousing he was? She surged forward to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips. He was right about one thing, it definitely drove her crazy. She moved instinctively, arching her back as she hooked one leg up and over his back, pressing her wet center into his aching cock. She realized a second after she did it that it was not regular maiden behavior. A virtuous maiden like herself should not have moved like that, should not have acted as such. But Jon seemed lost in the sensations flooding his body. He grinded against her, rubbing his engorged member through her folds, the bulbous head dragging across her clit with devastating effect.

“Jon” She gasped his name, pressing herself closer as she sought out more friction. He groaned at her movements or her words, but then pulled himself back. Her leg dropped from his waist.

“Sansa, wait” He grounded out between pants. He sounded utterly wrecked. It went straight to her core, “Are you, are you sure about this?” He questioned, holding himself above her and impossibly still, “I can stop right here and nothing will change between us, I promise. I just want to be sure that you want this, and for the right reasons. Not because we’re on the run, or you’re afraid, or because you want to make me feel better,”

“I just want you, Jon,” She told him gently, intertwining her fingers with his where they laid next to her head. It was slightly uncomfortable, and he had to switch his weight to his knees instead, “And you, you’re doing this for the right reason?” She didn’t list the wrong reasons. Her reasons may have been more complicated then she let on, but when it came down to it, she wanted him, plain and simple.

“I want you too,” He murmured, kissing each of her hands before guiding them to lay around his neck. She wrapped one in his hair and used the other to cup his cheek, “It might hurt a bit,” He told her.

“I know” She nodded, “It’s okay, Jon. I trust you,” She whispered, caressing his stubbly cheek. He gave her a soft smile, which she returned, then reached down to check if she was ready. If he were surprised or repulsed by the wetness that had gathered in such little time, he said nothing. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gentle pleasure that rocked through her as he inserted one finger, then two, then three, stretching her out.

“Sansa, open your eyes, love” He murmured removing his fingers from her center. His soaked digits went to his cock, stroking himself once, twice, before spreading her legs just a little bit more. She relaxed her knees, letting her legs fall wide. He aligned the head with her opening, pausing at he looked at her. Grey met her gaze, open and honest and full of desire, passion, and even love. It was a look she knew well from the last realm. She held his gaze as he pushed in slowly, stretching her like nothing in this realm never had.

It stung, but in a way that wasn’t so unbearable. She wasn’t able to stop her wince though, and he paused above her.

“I’m okay” She whispered, “Keep going” She encouraged. She knew it would get better. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and then her lips. His tongue distracted her while he pushed all the way in, his hip bones coming into contact with her own. She took a second to appreciate the feeling of being utterly full and sated. She could feel her muscles stretching and clenching. It was a good feeling, one she had desperately missed.

“Okay?” He questioned. 

‘Mhm,” She breathed through her nose, “You can move,” She told him, lifting her own hips a few inches, spurring him into action. He moved with the finesse of a virgin, but it was endearing. He pulled out slowly and then pushed in slowly. He held himself stiffly above her, probably trying not to spend his seed prematurely. When he sped up a little, she moaned, letting her own thumb circle her clit. He gained speed, thrusting into her harder and faster. His breath came in rough pants while hers was breathless and mewling. He hiked her leg up over his hip, the position making him hit that part inside of her that had her vision going white and fuzzy around the edges. She raked her hands up and down his back, trying to pull him closer when there was no space left between them.

He came first, grunting so low it nearly sounded like a growl. She came a second after, furiously working her clit while he gripped her so tightly she knew she’d have bruises. She saw white once again, losing herself in the feeling of his slick body above her, a steady weight against her own, and his heart beating nearly in sync with hers. He pulled out and rolled over to his side, breathing raggedly. She rolled over onto her side and placed a hand on his chest, idly playing with the sparse dark hair he had smattered across his torso. His fingers found hers and clasped their hands together as he squeezed softly.

Outside in the village of Rosby there was an air of tranquility, peace and quiet. There were no battle cries, no green flames burning, and no men dying in the streets. War was looming, but right then and there, everything seemed so utterly normal. It was just a regular night in an inn with a man she loved. She wasn’t Sansa Stark, she wasn’t born in a different realm, she did not know war. He was not Jaemon Targaryen, nor Jon Snow. They were just a boy and a girl, and life was good.


End file.
